


Ses Yeux

by Strickens



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Amélie lacroix - Freeform, F/F, Femslash, Love, Redemption, Rehabilitation, Romance, Widowmaker, f/f - Freeform, lena oxton - Freeform, tracer - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-06-06 12:42:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6754237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strickens/pseuds/Strickens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Talon had trained her, they had formed her into the killer that she was. She was deadly, ruthless. But there was one thing that broke her, and it was every time she gazed into Lena Oxton's eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It had been far too easy. And yet...

“WHY? WHY would you do this??”

Lena's voice rang through her mind as she sat perched upon a building outcropping, her fingers as still as the void itself as she followed her target.

Her memory fell back to that moment again, and she remembered the way the joker's mask had fallen away to reveal a desperate and vulnerable girl, pinning her to the ground and begging with her eyes for an answer. Those hazel irises pierced through her and into her and in the briefest of seconds she felt the most bizarre pang rip through her gut.

All before the veneer of Widowmaker fell back into place and she returned to the efficient killing machine that Talon had born.

Yet, though she would brush it off as her task being complete, there was a part inside of her that gnawed at the back of her skull; a voice that kept insisting that there was a reason she had left the petite Brit alive rather than ripping out her throat when she could have so easily.

Oh how her overseers at Talon had praised her work, and she had accepted their praise as she always did, but as she returned to her quarters there was a part of her that screamed at her for not finishing the job on little miss Lena Oxford.

And so, here she was. Tracking her target's movement, following and stalking her prey like a jaguar just waiting for the right moment to pounce. She took it slow. To her the hunt itself was just as thrilling as landing the kill, watching her prey, ingraining her every movement into her brain and taking in every detail- no matter how small- into her memory.

Like how many freckles she had. Roughly 34, visible. Splattered around her nose and cheekbones. How her frame moved as she pushed through crowds, a gait uniquely her that made it easy to identify her even in the busiest of locations.

Lowering her brows and squinting to sharpen her vision, she tucked her sniper rifle more snugly against her collarbone, watching as a brief wash of neon orange slipped behind the surrounding people flowing in the opposite direction. Tensing the tip of her finger against the trigger, she adjusted her aim and awaited for the wily Brit to appear in an opening a few feet ahead.

As expected, Lena appeared in her scope. She wasn't however expecting for Lena to stop her direction of travel completely, turning her head to look up and towards her as if she was peering right back at Widowmaker through her scope.

Inquisitive hazel eyes sparkled like they had that night, a fleeting question that was never spoken. Such raw emotion behind flickering pupils that it caught the sniper off guard, a sharp pang squeezing and constricting her chest. Her finger trembled ever so slightly on the trigger, but it was enough to throw off her concentration.

Kill her, kill her, take her out, do it, kill her! The voices slithered and hissed behind her skull like a foul snake, whispering to her, forcing her hand.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she pulled her vision away from the sight, inhaling slowly through her nostrils until her chest was filled to the brim. As she began to exhale, her finger steadied and she returned her eye to the scope, ready once more to take out her target.

Her brow furrowed and her lips pursed as she searched the area, her target vanished and her opportunity missed. She internally scolded herself for being foolish enough to allow herself to become so distracted, and by nothing more than a pathetic gaze from a childish woman who would be dead and buried soon enough.

“Lookin' for me, luv?”

The musical sound of that bright, British accent stabbed through her chest, the sensation not so dissimilar to someone holding her tightly by the throat and crushing; crushing until there was nothing left. She knew the second she tried to retaliate the girl would be waiting for her, but she was nothing if not perseverant and deadly in all forms of combat.

Rolling over from her prone position, she used the muscles rippling across her upper back to swing her rifle in the direction of Tracer's voice, the heavy gun only making her movements sluggish and far too easy for the woman to appear beside her and kick her rifle from her fingers.

It was the move that she had been awaiting, thus Widowmaker flicked her legs up and outwards as Tracer's momentum threw her over her, kicking the woman harshly in her rib cage and knocking her back onto the solid roof top.

She whipped out her grapple, extending it and latching it onto a rooftop air exhaust vent behind Tracer, making sure it was securely latched before using it to propel herself towards where the woman was just beginning to pull herself up off the ground. She was visibly winded, her eyes only just making contact with her assaulter as the blue skinned woman came crashing down on top of her.

In the blink of an eye, Widowmaker had slipped her fingers into her right boot, producing a razor sharp karambit that she wielded with deadly efficiency. She had Tracer pinned beneath her, the brunette girl's eyes widening in a moment of fear as the sharp edge of the blade pressed itself against her neck.

Tracer's hands flew up, wrapping around the cool wrist holding the weapon, and Widowmaker noted just how warm the woman's skin was as it held her in a deathly grip.

Kill her, kill her, you're a killer! No emotions, no care, trained efficiency, our greatest tool yet!

Her fingers trembled yet again, her forehead crinkling and the corners of her lip turning to a sneer as she leant the weight of her body into the karambit, pressing her face within centimetres of Tracer's until she could very well taste the girl's breath.

“Looks like ya' got me, luv.”

A soft huff erupted unexpectedly from her throat, and she loosened the pressure she was applying to the knife.

“You could easily phase and escape me in this very instant, and yet you don't. Why?”

There was a moment of silence, just the ragged breath that at first she thought belonged to the prey below her, the sound of the captured woman's blood thundering through her veins. It wasn't until Tracer's lips twitched into a cheeky, albeit weak smile, that she realised it was her own.

“Maybe, it's the same reason you 'aint put that blade through me neck yet, innit?”

She drew back, just enough to allow her more room to search the features on the brunette's face. She took another few seconds, recounting each one of those visible freckles, recalculating her behaviour pattern by following the way her pupils had become dilated and the hazel colour began to turn to a darker shade of ebony.

Tracer's fingers loosened their grip on her wrists, travelling down them painfully slow as though she were afraid of scaring the woman like she were a deer caught in head lights. They curled around her hands, grazing over her knuckles and tracing along the spaces between her fingers. It seemed almost too long before the Brit managed to pry Widowmaker's deathly grip from the knife, pulling it away from her and dropping it to the side.

As though realising and finally snapping out of her trance, Widowmaker let out a high pitched grunt, swinging an arm downwards with as much force as she could muster. Tracer closed her eyes, squinting them shut and inching to the side as to try her best to weather the blow, but it never came.

Instead the woman shouted out again in pain as her knuckles impacted the cement beside Tracer's head, a loud 'crack' ringing out through the air and she wasn't entirely sure if it was the sound of the concrete breaking or the bones in her hand. The throbbing sensation that coursed up her forearm was a clue, splotches of red on the ground dribbling from her knuckles and forming a small patch of blood.

She couldn't even bring herself to face Tracer, welding her eyes shut instead and holding herself up above the woman despite her trembling limbs and a ringing in her head that threatened to unfurl everything.

Kill her, kill her! You're pathetic, a pathetic excuse for a killer. Whatever will we do with you?

The hissing voices returned, incessant, scratching at the walls of her skull and trying to claw their way out. Visions- she wasn't sure if they were implanted or otherwise- of Tracer laying beneath her. Several bullet wounds to the chest and bleeding out as she gasped out her final breath. A feeling of satisfaction in a job well done, at hunting her prey.

She screamed internally as she felt something sharp tearing at her ribcage, slicing her open and digging in deep to the tender flesh beneath. She could see her own blood spilling down her abdomen and covering her finger tips, and she could see another man standing before her. Perhaps another Talon assassin?

Everything turned white and cold, the visions shifting once again and she still wasn't sure if she was dreaming, hallucinating, or maybe even being wiped by Talon again for failing what she was programmed to do.

There she was, standing before her. Smile as big as anything, and eyes glinting in the sunlight as she extended a hand. Widowmaker looked down and realised it was her own hand, reaching out and wrapping her fingers around Tracer's.

Kill. Kiss. Kiss her. Why, why do you want to kiss her?

She could feel a crooked smile etching its way onto her own face as Lena tugged her towards her, the two falling into a slow spin together until the young Brit was pinned to the trunk of a cherry blossom tree. The mild impact caused a good handful of the blossoms to shake loose from above, falling down onto them, a stray petal also making its way down and sticking to the tip of Lena's button nose.

A very English giggle erupted from her throat, and Widowmaker found herself reaching forwards to brush the offending petal away with her fingers.

“Careful luv, you'll bring this whole tree down on top of us if ya' keep being cheeky.”

Kiss her, kiss her.

She leant forwards, capturing those sweet lips with her own, revelling in just how soft they were pressed against hers; she never thought it would be possible for someone to be just this delicious.

As she pulled away from the kiss, the usually exuberant Brit had turned to putty in her hands, soft and docile. Her eyes were lidded as she looked up at her, uttering something so softly she almost missed it.

“Amélie.”

“Amélie?”

Tracer's voice was soft but urgent, and the assassin found herself jolting as though she had just been abruptly awoken from a deep slumber, and was as shocked as one such as herself could be to be curled into a foetal ball while being held firmly in Lena's lap. Her mind still swam with remnants of her visions, and she could barely focus on anything around her.

The one thing that came clearly into focus though was Lena's eyes, yet again. Looking down at her with such concern she didn't appear to be the same person that she duelled with on a regular basis, teasing her and taunting her.

She moved her lips, trying to find her voice and she found her lips dry. Lena raised a single eyebrow, patiently waiting as the assassin inhaled sharply and tried again.

“What have you done to me?”

As though confused, Lena just sat there for several moments, before shaking her head from side to side. Her choppy brunette hair swished across her face with the movement, and a hint of humour edged back into her voice as she reached up to brush the strands away.

“Nuttin'. Why, there somethin' you want me to do to ya'?”

Widowmaker grunted, but it was barely that, the sound brushing against her lips as she shoved herself away from the woman holding her against her so tightly. Your warmth. So vibrant, so overwhelming...

“You are nothing, if not insufferable,” Widowmaker scoffed, finding her footing and managing to stand on her own two feet. Lena watched over her, standing and offering her space but also staying close enough that she could assist her should her legs give out.

They were a little weak, but the strength returned before long, and she took several purposeful strides over to where her rifle lay against the cold, hard cement. She picked it up, stroking her fingers along its length, the sensation of cool metal against her bare fingertips calming.

There were some scratches from where it had skittered across the rough surface, but nothing that couldn't be worked out with some TLC. Clicking her tongue, she rolled it over, checked the lenses in her scope for cracks. Satisfied that it wasn't damaged, she rolled her shoulders once and let the weapon fall to her side.

She could feel a scratching sensation at her skull once again, her eyelids scrunching up and her lips pursing as she tried to retain any sense of self. The sensation of hatred beginning to overcome her once again, the acidic whispers coursing just behind her ears.

Then, a sensation that shot up her spine and sent sparks through her skin.

Fingertips. Gentle, inquisitive. They traced up the length of her forearm until they came to rest at her shoulder blade. Her keen senses began to kick in and she could smell the scent of sweat and a faint hint of lavender and rose wafting off of Tracer's skin and clothes. She knew the woman was right behind her, and as such she grit her teeth and resisted the urge to spin on her heels on her here and now.

If she sensed this imminent danger she made no visible acknowledgement of it. Lena took a step closer, the heat of her body radiating off of her and just barely touching the surface of her own, blue body.

“You alright then, luv'?”

Her hand tightened around her rifle, knuckles paling and joints shivering with restraint. “Go.”

Hesitating, Lena squeezed her shoulder. The increased pressure only made this harder.

Kiss. Kill. Kill.

“Amélie?”

“I said GO!” She turned her head so that her piercing eyes met once again with vibrant hazel, and in that moment she saw something behind Lena's pupils that was absolutely terrifying. It was something that made her chest sting and her mind scream at her. She couldn't describe it and it only infuriated her even more that the feeling became more overwhelming the more she lay eyes on the petite woman.

Spinning back around, she slammed her eyes shut and refused to open them again until the offending person had left.

She was sure she heard a soft “righto,” before the gentle sound of shoes against the rooftop and the whipping of Tracer slipping through the time stream met her ears.

Securing her rifle, she didn't allow herself time to mull over the thoughts that sped through her mind. Lena Oxton might have gotten the best of her this time, but she would make sure that it wouldn't happen again.

 

~


	2. Chapter 2

Time and patience. Those were the two things that Widowmaker had more than enough of.

Since their last encounter, she had regrouped herself. She sat in her private quarters and logged journals of Tracer's movements, noting every thing no matter how small. Anything could be an advantage to her in the right moment.

Lena Oxton might have been the epitome of what people might consider a 'class clown', but behind those walls she knew that what existed was a kind, gentle soul that wouldn't see harm come to anything or anyone. This, she had decided, would be her downfall in time.

Once she was convinced she had fully recovered from her mental breakdown several days prior, she resumed her tracking and patrols of the legging clad woman.

It was a rather cool day, even by her own standards. Every so often the sky let loose a smattering of raindrops, the clear liquid running streaks down the front of her visor, much to her disdain and leading to her using her forearm to wipe it dry as best she could.

This particular day, she followed with measured caution as Tracer made her way through to the middle class district of the city, coming to a stop outside of a several story building that resembled something from the late 1800's. An eyebrow quirked up in interest, her fingers sliding around her scope to adjust the focus so she could inspect the location.

It was surrounded by heavy steel fencing painted an off-white colour, a large wooden plaque hanging beside a pair of gates that proclaimed in cursive writing that it was an Orphanage, that word alone making Widowmaker pull back instinctively from her scope as though struck in the eye.

After a moment of thought, she decided it was exactly like that annoyingly kind woman to be paying a visit to an Orphanage. Perhaps she felt more at home among children such as herself.

That thought in itself brought a crooked smirk to Widowmaker's lips, and she returned her eye to the scope, quickly bringing the skinny woman back into frame.

She watched carefully, following every movement as Tracer announced her arrival at the establishment. It didn't take long for a horde of children of all ages to come rushing out into the exercise yard, swarming the petite woman and gushing over her as though she was a God given gift. She let a soft grunt fall from her lips, but continued regardless.

In fact, after a good long while it was almost endearing to watch as Lena laughed and played with the children, her arms flailing wildly and her body zipping about as though she was describing desperate battles in an incredibly dramatic fashion. At one point, she picked up a girl who would have been no more than six years old, hoisting her on her shoulders and running about with her as though she were an aeroplane.

Her lip twitched, and something tickled at the back of her throat. It was unexpected, and made her jolt with surprise, but it was too late to take back the soft sound of laughter as it spilled out of her.

She shook her head lightly, as though trying to separate herself from invisible webs. Returning her eyes to the sight, she spotted something... unusual.

Squinting, she lightly twisted the zoom and adjusted her rifle until she could see into the window of the building next to the orphanage. It looked abandoned at first glance, but she was sure she had seen something in the third story window.

Stilling herself, she waited patiently and... there!

She could just make out the dark shadow of a shape lingering behind the frame of a window, and although she could not see his face or eyes, she could clearly tell that his vision was focussed solely on Tracer. Her lip curled into a sneer. Had Talon sent out another agent to watch her?

The shadowy figure shifted suddenly, lifting a glinting metal object into vision and aiming it down towards Lena. It was a rifle, but nothing like Widowmaker's own. It appeared old and weathered, heavier and not suitable for close range combat or rapid fire.

A moment of panic overtook Widowmaker and she wasn't sure where it came from, quickly checking on Tracer only to see the Brit hadn't noticed the other assassin, too preoccupied with the children. Sweeping her rifle back up, she took aim within less than a second and fired towards the still mass of black and metal.

The bullet pinged as it hit the end of his rifle, sending the weapon scattering from his hands. His vision shifted towards Widowmaker, and she used the opportunity to take another shot. Crack!

She had intended for a kill shot, but he had dived out the window the second he realised he was under attack, his body falling gracefully through the air like a trained acrobat. As he fell, it became apparent he was wearing a heavy trench coat, and it flowed around him as he reached the ground and landed with a heavy thud.

At this point, Tracer had finally noticed the attack happening, her eyes darting between Widowmaker's nest and the opponent now stalking towards her. She ushered the children back quickly, allowing one of the female caretakers to rush them inside to safety.

Widowmaker watched as the robed man rushed towards Tracer, whipping out a short barrelled weapon that appeared to be an automatic shotgun, the shimmering black of its metal glistening as though it had just been polished. Tracer zipped, and teleported, clearing the yard of the orphanage and making her way down the street.

She watched as the man chased Lena, black smoke trailing from his coat as he appeared to move with an unnatural ease, keeping up with the elusive Brit.

There was no denying it, there was something incredibly impressive about the way Tracer moved. There one minute, gone the next. Impossible to follow with your eyes but if you stopped for just a second and allowed yourself to connect with her through a tenuous, invisible string, you might just be able to keep up with her.

The two raced through the streets, the man showering her with shots whenever he grew close enough, only to have Tracer zip away with barely a millisecond to spare, shards of metal spraying the concrete walls of buildings and startling nearby commuters.

Then they moved through an alley, Widowmaker growling softly as she lost vision of them, deciding she needed to re-position on an adjacent building to regain sight of the battle.

Extending her arm, she shot her grapple across the street and swung gracefully across. Using her momentum from the swing, she ran up the side of the building, leaping up onto the rooftop like a predatory ballerina before disconnecting her grapple and continuing the chase.

She heard gunfire to the east, her vision snapping in that direction and her feet taking off before she had time to even command them to.

Skidding to the end of the rooftop, she looked down. It was in that moment that the man lined up an almost too perfect shot, taking Tracer by surprise. She was just barely able to avoid the bullet spray, warping around and behind him, which must have been exactly what he had been expecting.

Spinning around, he rammed an elbow into Tracer's chest, the force of the blow knocking her backwards several steps and making her fall to her knees.

A sharp sound rang through the air, Amélie did not realise it was her own voice, hoarse and desperate.

Kill him, kill him! She is yours, not his! He has no right to steal what is yours! Kill him!

Tracer looked down at her chronal accelerator, the bright blue light flickering ever so slightly. It was enough to make her face pale as she tilted her eyes up to face her hunter. Even if it was only on the blink for a few seconds, that was enough for him to finish her; time seemed to slow as the shotgun was raised slowly towards her until it was at forehead level with the girl.

Suddenly the sound of wet gurgling filled the air, and the sound of something sharp pushing through flesh.

Widowmaker smirked, twisting the blade through the man's spine while pulling him close, close enough that he could feel the heat of her breath on his ear.

“She is mine.”

Wrenching the knife from his back, she brought her arm about him and slid the blade across his neck with such ease his skin could have been made of paper. A wave of euphoria overtook her as she felt warm liquid spilling freely across her fingers and hand, closing her eyes for just a moment before letting the man's body fall to the ground.

Adrenaline coursed through her body, but her hateful need had been somewhat sated. She stepped over his body towards Lena, who peered up at her with foggy, questioning eyes.

It was as though she was waiting for something that never came. A scolding from the Brit for killing the man, a thinly veiled flirt or one of her endlessly teasing sentiments. When nothing came, she extended a hand, watching with a stony expression as hazel eyes regarded first her hand, and then her face. Then, her hand again, before her lips pursed into a thoughtful pout and she reached out her own hand, fingers curling around slender blue.

Widowmaker tugged the girl to her feet, giving her body a once over with steely eyes, checking for injuries even as Tracer dusted the dirt from herself and plastered one of those stupid grins onto her face.

“Jeez luv, at this rate peoples are gonna' think you're sweet on me,” flicking a strand of hair out of her eyes, those hazel eyes sparkling with mischief. “Rescuin' a damsel in distress and all.”

She could feel voices swirling in her head again, whispering and muttering, but it was muted. Her brow crinkled and her lips just barely parted as though she was about to say something, but changed her mind. All too suddenly she was aware of just how close the two of them were, Lena's scent once again making her nostrils twitch and a strange twisting sensation form in her gut.

As if by a will not entirely her own- she was all too familiar with this- she reached out, her cold, calloused fingers wrapping around that tiny, warm little neck in a firm grasp. Using her weight, she swung Lena around until her back landed hard against the alley way wall, a soft grunt escaping her lips from the impact and a brief questioning stare lingering in her eyes.

A gentle pulsing sensation bounced against her fingertips, most certainly not her own heartbeat, but Lena's. It increased even more as she closed the distance between them, their noses almost touching as they held each others gaze.

Twisting gently against her hold, but not trying to escape, Tracer broke the burning silence between them.

“Well... you gonna' keep starin' at me like that? Or ya' gonna' kiss me, sweet thing?”

Amélie's eyes flickered, her intense gaze softening with an intense warmth that she thought she might burn a hole right through the woman, her head swirling with fog.

Kiss her, kiss her, it's what you want, feel her warmth, taste her...

Her grip moved from Lena's neck, sliding up her jawline and curling around the back of her head, grasping a good fistful of hair; it felt like silk against her skin, a sensation that made her shudder. Pulling her in, their lips met, and she immediately fell into the smaller woman.

Though she towered over Lena, she felt so small herself. Using her free hand she pressed it forcefully against the wall, struggling to hold herself up as Lena's lips parted. There was a brief moment where time slowed, her mouth opening and welcoming the softness of Lena's tongue, a white hot shock running down her spine and all the way to her toes. The sensation was unlike anything she had felt in... such a long time.

She pulled Lena closer, deepening the kiss. Her knees buckled and nearly gave way, but a slender arm wrapped around her waist and kept her upright and close. It felt amazing, so warm, so tender. It was sending a thrill through her body that she could only remember ever getting from her kills.

A soft moan left Lena's throat, that sound alone making Amélie gasp for breath, the Brit breaking the kiss but staying close enough that she could still feel the puffs of her breath against her skin.

And then, Lena said something that almost broke her, leaving her absolutely breathless and feeling as though she might fall into the void right there and then.

Tracer ran a hand across her lower back, a wicked smile crossing her lips. “Mmm, you taste even better than I imagined luv.”

In the blink of an eye, Amélie had pulled herself away before the rising heat on her cheeks became visible, extending her grapple to the roof above and zipping away to leave Lena there all by herself and wondering what the hell just happened.

“Sweet thing? Was it somethin' I said?”

When no reply came, Tracer kicked the ground and allowed herself a few seconds of pouting.

“Bollocks.”

~


	3. Chapter 3

Widowmaker had deliberately avoided Tracer now for almost two entire weeks, and it was intentional. She had lied and told her superiors at Talon that she needed more time to infiltrate Tracer's routine and find a better way to secure the kill. In the mean time, they had assigned her with a few trivial tasks. Taking out several targets of low importance, but that were a nuisance the group wanted taken care of.

Every day it was the same thing; wake from restless dreams and in a state of half delusions bring her fingertips to her lips, brushing them across the cold skin yet somehow still feeling the heat there from Lena's kiss.

Then, as soon as the feelings had come they had gone, and she rose out of bed with efficiency and prepared for a day of hunting and pushing images of Tracer out of her mind until all that was left was the sensation of a cold, ruthless predator slinking through her veins.

Today she decided she would get back out there, find the woman and confront her. Surely Talon would be growing tired of her avoiding the Overwatch agent, and it wasn't in her mind to displease them any time soon.

She made her way to a market in the eastern side of the city, her memory serving to remind her that Tracer usually did some light shopping there every Thursday. The woman seemed to have a penchant for browsing the flower and gift shops, a hobby shop that stocked a plethora of model planes, and at least two different candy stores.

Today, Widowmaker did not take to the roofs. The design of the indoor market made it difficult to do so, plus it was relatively easy to shadow her target through the number of crowds pushing past her.

In order to help conceal herself just a little further, she was wearing a thin coat over the top half of her body, the slate grey fabric clinging around her waist and tied securely with a matching belt.

She kept her distance, pretending to peruse the stalls and show interest in items, every so often checking in her peripheral vision as to Tracer's location. Her eyebrows lifted and she tilted her head as she watched the Brit pick up a rosy red apple from a fruit stall, smiling brightly and handing a few coins to the man behind the counter, his bristly moustache twitching over his lips as he thanked her.

Tracer flicked the apple up into the air, before catching it and walking off, taking a bite out of the fresh fruit. It was so casual it was almost unnerving, and for the briefest of moments Widowmaker felt as though she was peering in at something most intimate. Strange, considering she practically made her life out of watching other peoples lives.

Sliding between a pair of giggling women that refused to give space in the crowd, Widowmaker couldn't help herself but to turn towards them and give them an icy stare; though she was fairly certain they didn't even notice her or the blazing fury in her eyes.

Turning back, she peered around the clusters of people enjoying the sights and sounds of the market, the very tips of her ears twitching in case that very British giggle rang out in the crowds. Alas, all she could hear was the muttering of families talking, children laughing and store owners shouting out their discounts at the top of their lungs.

A soft growl of dissatisfaction escaped her, but she continued her hunt nonetheless. Moving through the waves of people, she peered into one of the candy stores she knew Tracer so liked, but to no avail. The hobby store wasn't far down either, but upon checking it was also vacant of the girl she searched for.

Her lips downturned, she wasn't aware of the frown marring her face, only the consuming emptiness that seemed to have settle inside her stomach. Tightening her waist belt, she straightened herself up and began to make her way towards one of the exits. It was as she was turning a corner past a busy bakery that she ran into someone, their bodies almost crashing together, and she was about to let loose a very French obscenity from her lips when she saw who it was.

“Lena?” the confusion was evident in her voice, yet laced with a demanding tone. The woman only grinned in reply, flashing a quick wink as she leant towards her.

“Sorry luv, just wanted to get ya' a surprise and all,” a nervous chuckle. “Couldn't have you sticky beakin' around me.”

There was a moment of confusion inside of Amélie's chest as Tracer whipped her hands out from behind her back, where they had been snugly tucked away. Arms extended, fingers wrapped delicately around tinted blue plastic that held a bundle of dark red roses. The petals glistened with tiny droplets of water that beaded on their petals, the centres of which faded into velvety black.

Lena's cheeks were tinged with the palest of pinks, lips curved up into an expectant smile that only accentuated the roundness of her cheekbones.

Amélie's eyes flickered in a panic, hairs on the nape of her neck bristling as she noticed people around her staring, pressing themselves into her business. An old man and lady couple who were awaiting to be served at the bakery smiled at her, then Tracer. Several other men and women also looked over, some only showing the briefest of interest, others watching intently.

A thousand eyes upon her, judging her, wondering why she wasn't just accepting the flowers. Lena's eyes watched her as well, her smile fading more as she stood there with arms extended and the colour in her cheeks darkening.

Flowers, what a fool. What are flowers but flimsy plants that simply die? Like everything dies. She is a fool, such a fool.

She blinked once, reaching out and accepting the bunch of roses like they were fragile and would crush under the weight of her fingers. Lifting them gently, she allowed the fresh aroma to meet her nostrils, the floral scent bringing a calmness to her that wasn't there before.

“They are...” she couldn't make eye contact, afraid now that if she did she might just take off and never return. “Lovely.” 

She bought us flowers? Whatever would Talon think of this? Best not let them find out or it will be your head on a platter.

A soft giggle, feet scuffing against the ground.

“Fought ya' might like em. Weren't too sure, but ya' can't blame a girl for tryin'.”

The eyes around her shifted, and in a slow haze everyone returned to their business, buying doughnuts and strawberry tortes; hushing their children who scrambled and fought at their ankles; bantering with the salesman who always gave them a discount. She once again became insignificant amongst the crowd.

Something stirred in her chest and she wasn't sure what it was at first, gripping the bundle of flowers more tightly and holding them against her coat, she dared to lift her head until she found herself willing to make eye contact. Tracer wasn't wearing her goggles over her vision today, the swirling of browns, greens and a little bit of amber in her irises appearing even more stunning than usual.

Amélie thought she might find judgement there, or fear, or both. But she only found a young woman smiling back at her, sincerity and joy in her eyes at the simple fact of her having accepted the flowers.

How could someone like her ever want someone like you? You're a monster, undeserving of love or life.

“Tu me rends fou,” she uttered under her breath, fully aware that Lena couldn't understand what she was saying by the slight tilt of her head but taking advantage of the lack of knowledge in French the girl possessed.

Turning away from the bakery, Amélie began to walk through the crowds, fully expecting the shorter girl to follow alongside her; she was completely right in this respect, Lena taking several quick steps to catch up until they could almost have passed for a couple walking along side each other.

“Ya' know if ya' wanted to compliment my butt, you coulda' just said so,” Lena teased, not phased one single bit by Amélie's cold exterior.

Gritting her teeth, she tried hard to swallow a burning sensation that coiled in her throat and spiraled down to her stomach.

Hard to believe that she is still here, why doesn't she fear you and what you've done?

Brow furrowing, Amélie spared the slightest of glances towards her walking companion, the tiny woman also stealing glances in her direction.

“Why do you not run from me?”

Hazel eyes turned to her again, bright and beautiful under a cocked eyebrow as though they hid a wonderful secret.

“When've I ever ran from a challenge?”

Before Widowmaker had a chance to formulate her reply, she spotted a flash of black and red amongst waves of people, her keenly trained eyesight spotting it despite it being at least a hundred meters away from them. A surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins and she grabbed Tracer by the forearm, tugging her forcefully into a shoe store.

The smaller woman allowed herself to be dragged to the back of the shop, which was empty except for a lady shopping two aisles down for a pair of slippers.

Pinning Lena against the flat end of the aisle, she made sure she had a view of the outside, concentrating with her incredible vision and waiting for what could have almost been an eternity for the man to pass the shop. This entire time, Lena squirmed and her cheeks had flushed a gentle colour of rouge from merely being pressed against the assassin.

“Talon agent,” Amélie let out a long breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, her eyes flicking downwards and meeting Lena's. “They will kill us both if they see us together.”

Without missing a beat, Lena managed to finesse one of her hands between the two of them, sliding it up Amélie's chest where it rested at the opening to her coat. Small fingers pressed against cool skin, resting there for a few seconds to allow warmth to spread through contact.

“Totally worth it, luv.”

This warmth was so strange, so different to the sensation of feeling your enemies blood trickling over your flesh. It was like a lighter being sparked somewhere deep inside her chest, spreading through her entire body like a wildfire.

There was a heartbeat beneath Lena's palm. Soft, steady, achingly slow, but something in it reacted to the contact; Amélie was suddenly too aware of the sensation of their bodies pressed together and it was clouding her mind, clouding her judgement.

A soft breath escaped her lips as Lena bounced up on her tippy toes, the smaller brunette not wasting any time in closing the gap and pressing their lips together. Her chest ached, the sensation beginning to travel all the way down as Lena pulled her closer, lips dancing over hers and begging for entrance; it was far too easy for her to comply.

Their kiss deepened, the sensation filling Amélie's chest whilst burrowing an aching emptiness inside of her even deeper. At that same moment, she felt that warm hand sliding down the front of her coat, pushing through an opening in the fabric until it was snaking around her waist.

The sensation was overwhelming, filling her senses with heat and softness. In that moment, she didn't want it to end, arching into Lena's touch and letting out a gentle gasp as the fingers began to travel down her spine.

Another gasp rang out, followed by a gentle thud, the two breaking their intimate moment to see a very flushed looking woman now bending over to pick up the pair of shoes she had just dropped on the ground. She hastily made her way past the two women, not making eye contact as she went to pay for her shoes at the front of the store.

Amélie did not feel embarrassment or sheepishness, her vision still fuzzy as the heat slowly began to drain from her body, a lingering warmth remaining as her and Tracer stood pressed together. On the other hand, though her cheeks were a little flushed, Lena had the biggest shit eating grin on her face. Clearly, she was showing no remorse for their situation either.

Why does she smile like that? Talon could be waiting, watching, to kill her and me. So easily they could take her out... this cannot happen.

“Lena, you need to leave,” Amélie's voice was stern, but not entirely cold.

As though voicing her confusion with her eyes, the smile fell from Lena's lips, hazel eyes flickering between Amélie's as she searched for an answer.

“Talon,” she pulled away from the brunette, but allowed the woman to catch her by the wrist even as she tried to put distance between them. “They know something is wrong with me...”

She didn't have time to think of a way to finish that sentence, those thin fingers pulling her back until she had no choice but to look directly at the one holding her hostage. So serious.

“Luv, what you been put through, by them Talon ass holes...” Lena stopped, her face crinkling as though the thought alone was causing her pain. “They mighta' taken your life away from you, but you can get it back.”

There were memories inside of her, memories she had been forced to repress, memories Talon had thought wiped from her mind but had only lain dormant. Memories of a life before, a love before. A man she had married, a cause that he stood for.

Then, there were flashes of pain. Needles buried deep in her arms and chemicals pumped through her veins, liquid that burned and made her scream against her restraints. Something... inside of her head, planted there, something hard and scratching, screeching at her to do Talon's bidding. She wasn't sure, but something must have gone wrong. The device wasn't working like it was supposed to any more, and she could feel it, droplets of herself falling back into a lake that had been dry for as long as she could remember.

“Amélie, let me fix you.”

Her words were so sincere it was almost painful, a welling of emotions in her throat making her swallow a lump that had formed there.

“Lena.... S'il vous plaît,” Amélie's eyes began to sting, but she would not allow herself to cry tears this day. “You must go, it isn't safe here for you.”

The tiny Brit looked none too pleased about it, but after allowing herself a moment to take a deep breath and steel herself, she tried her very best to put a smile on her face.

“Promise you'll see me again soon, yeah?”

You will only put her in danger!

“I will always find you.”

Lena seemed pleased with this answer, though it was not necessarily a promise. She leaned up and cupped Amélie's face, running a thumb over her soft, cold skin before pressing a lingering kiss to the blue skinned woman's cheek.

The warmth was pleasant, staying with her even as Tracer let loose a trademark giggle and zipped off in a haze of blue.

She had waited a few minutes, staying in the store until she decided it would be a safe time to leave. She had kept her eyes open and inspecting her surroundings at every second, but made no observations of the Talon agent from earlier. Amélie decided that for the time being it would be best if she made her way to her home away from the base, making sure she had all the supplies she needed stocked up.

Adjusting her coat as she made her way through the streets, she had a feeling that it wouldn't be long until she would need them.

~


	4. Chapter 4

She figured two days would be plenty of time to kit herself up and have supplies ready should things go haywire and not as she had planned them. Her knowledge of Talon's base was already extensive, but she had spent extra time studying all of her files and blueprints that she had stored in the data banks on her PC.

The first day she had taken extra care when going to retrieve first aid supplies 'just in case', and had still ended up getting tailed by two Talon agents. Unfortunately for them, she had been more than ready for their attack as she lead them down a dirty backstreet and ambushed them from above.

Amélie's sleep had been restless as well. Her head was pounding with an intense migraine, so badly that she'd needed to inject herself with painkillers that contained a sleeping agent, just to stop the visual disturbances and to calm the scraping, throbbing sensation in her skull.

As she had lain in her small bed and waited for the medication to take effect, the voices had returned in full force. Whispering her name, threatening her, pleading with her.

Why would you do this to your superiors? They've made you into an unstoppable killing machine, they've made you who you are!

As though not a will her own, her body spasmed and claws crashed against her skull. Her arm flung out and searched for a sidearm that she kept close by, despite her desperately willing it to stop. Inches away, they screamed at her, they wanted her to take the weapon. Take it and massacre everyone, everything!

Her fingers were within grasping distance of the weapon when a warm hand closed around her own, drawing her arm back towards her body and squeezing her tightly. Delicate lips pressed to her neck, reassuring her and calming her even as her body shook uncontrollably.

“You're alright luv, I've got ya'.”

She knew she was hallucinating, or dreaming, or both; but even still, the reassuring presence of fake Lena calmed the screaming and the grating in her head until she was able to fall into a restless slumber. It was when she awoke on the second day, she knew that she needed to go back to Talon.

As an impossible of a mission as it might have been, she knew she had to face the people that made her this way. Maybe.. maybe it would help her find a way to fix what they did to her; perhaps she could hold their scientists hostage and demand they reverse the procedures on her body. It was a fool's errand, there was no mistaking that, but she was nothing if not determined to the detriment of her own health.

Preparing herself was easy enough. She wore her usual outfit, she most certainly was not afraid of death. Death was something she brought upon people, she did not fear it so much as death feared her. However, there was no harm in concealing extra reserves of ammo, hidden blades and even a small pistol if needed.

Amélie thought that on the way to the Talon base she might find herself being tailed again, but as though were expecting her, her journey there was uneventful. The men standing guard outside even paid her no mind and let her in as though it was any other day.

Was she suspicious? Most certainly. They knew they were losing an agent, that something had gone wrong with their programming, and they most likely were either seeking to end her or to tear her apart and turn her into the killer they had made her into originally.

The halls were dark, lit only by the dim blue glow of neon lights lining the ground and small white globes that were spaced equally distant from one another in the ceiling. Her boots clapped against the titanium grates lining the floors, her eyes scanning her surroundings with every footstep she took.

There were Talon guards and henchmen that passed her every so often on their way to their own assignments, none paying her any mind as she turned down into a wider hallway with a thick steel door. Her eyes burning like ember, she pressed her palm against a hand scanner and waited as red flickering lasers slid over it, taking a few seconds before beeping and turning green. The door clicked and clunked several times, a soft hiss of air escaping from the room that opened up before her.

It was full of consoles and monitors, equipment that beeped and showed scratchy images of targets being monitored by satellite, or by agents. Usually, these desks would be manned by people in grey clothing. They would all look the same, yet they were not. She could never be sure if they were just people that had been brainwashed like her or if they were all here of their own volition. She wasn't quite sure which answer was more terrifying.

Today however, it was vacant. This instantly disturbed her, to the point where her senses pricked up and she found herself instinctively reaching for her rifle as she approached a small holographic image of the Earth spinning at the very centre of the room.

Fully aware this was most likely a set up, she was none too surprised when the holographic image flickered and shifted, changing to that of a man standing with arms behind his back in a tight, thick suit of protective kevlar and carbon fibre pads. Scowling, she lifted her rifle up to the image, despite the fact that she couldn't do anything to it even she wanted to.

“Ah, Widowmaker. You are nothing if not always on schedule.”

Teeth gritting together, she tightened her hold on her weapon. Though his face was obscured by a visor of his own, she was almost certain he was smirking behind it.

“I'm here for answers. You are going to give them to me.”

A dry chuckle, grating on her ears and sending shivers twirling down her spine.

“Oh my dear, you are here because we want you here. That is what you were programmed to do.”

Her finger trembled on the trigger, the scratching in her skull beginning again. You are here because they want you here, not under your will alone.

“What, did you really think Talon would let an unhinged, maniac murderer loose in their base?” another dry laugh. “No, that little device in your skull might be malfunctioning but it still works well enough to influence your will.”

Chest constricting, she felt her knees wobble as though all strength had left them, her body falling to the ground and her weapon sliding from her fingers. On her knees now, like some helpless animal before its abusive master. She tried to reach for her rifle, but her arms wouldn't listen to her, the intense migraine splintering through her brain preventing her from moving from her position.

A gentle sob broke free from her throat as she realised her situation, what a fool she had been to believe that she could break away from the hold Talon had on her.

The doors behind her slid open, the sound of several sets of boots clattering up behind her. Two assault rifles pressed sharply into her shoulder blades, their cold metal just an extension of the cold humans holding them.

Another set of feet approached, rounding her form until she saw the boots coming to a halt in front of her. She recognised them instantly, her lips curling into a deep scowl.

“Reaper...” she managed to mouth, lifting her head as best she could but being unable to meet his eyes. She wasn't expecting a response, only the silence before the release of the safety on his signature weapon.

“Don't get me wrong, you have been an invaluable asset to Talon since your capture all those years ago. Unfortunately our scientists hadn't exactly planned for you to live this long, and to be quite honest you have out lived your usefulness,” there was more silence, the man sniffing and possibly adjusting his position. “The technology in your brain is breaking down, but we here feel it is a better use of resources to train newer, younger agents.”

“You... you are monsters,” she struggled to get the words out as her throat clenched, rivulets of tears running down her cheeks as she felt the technology inside of her ripping her mind apart.

“No my dear, you are a monster. A beautiful monster of havoc,” he almost sounded as if he pitied her. “It is unfortunate that you have become.... redundant.”

“I am no monster... she...”

A sharp laugh, mocking.

“Oh your little miss Lena Oxton? Yes, you have become quite taken with her haven't you?”

She jumped at his out loud admission, something inside of her burning with anger and frustration.

He hummed softly, as though in deep thought. “Yes, our monitoring had been pointing towards this for some time now. It's not surprising, considering the fact that you intentionally missed her even when you could have landed a kill.”

What? She had? But... for how long now? Had she been infatuated with Tracer for longer than even she herself knew? Her fingers clenched to the point that those delicate nails painted black almost drew blood from her palms.

“Come now my dear, we did our very best to block out your emotions for you. It was for your own good after all,” the man sniffled, fabric rustling and the guns pressing more firmly into her shoulder blades. “It's a pity we were not more.... successful in this task.”

Amélie's chest ached, filling with hatred and anger. She wished she could lash out and destroy every single one of these monstrous bastards, but the malfunctioning hardware in her head kept her body locked painfully in place.

“Reaper, be a good boy and take care of our guest.”

Reaper shifted his stance, the cold metal of the gun pressing harder against her skull. Welding her eyes shut, unable to defend herself, she awaited her fate.

There was a thunderous roar, like that of a beastly creature let loose in a jungle, followed by the ground trembling as though it was wracked by an earthquake. An ear piercing explosion threw Amélie forwards, the jerking motion shaking Reaper from side to side. His gun went off in the haze of curdling smoke and Amélie felt a stinging sensation crack the side of her head.

Falling to the ground, she couldn't make anything out through her blurry vision, she could only hear the sound of whipping gun spray and the woosh of time itself being zipped through. Tracer.

This sound was followed by more rapid gun fire and the shouting of the few guards remaining in the room, crashing footsteps and another beastly roar as two of them were thrown well over six feet. She wasn't sure what had happened to Reaper, only that the booming sound of his guns was long gone; most likely the worm had slithered off back to his hole.

A familiar scent filled her nostrils, a smell that calmed her burning nerve endings and soothed the pulsing pain splintering through her head, a warm hand pressing against her temple followed.

“Oh no, Amélie,” Lena, she sounded so... panicked. “Winston! She's over 'ere!”

The ground shook with the ape's approach, a huge blob of white filling her vision. “I can't carry 'er.”

“I've got her.”

Gentle hands the size of her head- perhaps even larger- scooped her up until she was nestled safely against Winston's plated chest, his tree trunk like arms holding her securely. Her body shivered, but not with cold. She could feel a heat returning, a heat she had not experienced in so long it brought goosebumps to her skin and a glaze of sweat along her brow.

“It's alright luv', yer safe now, we got ya'.”

She wanted to ask how they found her, or why there were even wasting their time on saving someone like her, someone un-saveable, irredeemable. Instead, as though by some magic, she felt Lena's lips touch her forehead; the contact so soft and calming, she allowed herself to slip into unconsciousness.

~


	5. Chapter 5

“Winston? Lena? What is going on, is that....”

Drifting in and out of consciousness, Amélie recognised that voice. It belonged to none other than Overwatch's resident doctor, Mercy, aka Angela Ziegler. Her body jostled as the ape pushed through a set of doors, taking the assassin and laying her out flat on what she assumed was a hospital bed.

“It's a long story, you can help her though yeah?” Tracer's voice, trying so hard to sound brave but the emotion in her words clear to anyone that knew her.

“What happened?” the sound of clattering medical equipment followed Mercy's question, and she felt hands probing at her skull but she was too weak to push her away.

A shuffling of feet, a sting in her arm. She felt herself grimacing but it only lasted so long.

“She needed our 'elp, I mighta' followed her..”

Soft cursing followed by more rattling and the thudding of Winston's feet.

“Lena! I cannot believe you! Do you have any idea what she is capable of? Or Talon for that matter?”

An awkward moment of silence, Amélie felt herself drifting again into a white haze, but came back around perhaps sometime after more conversation. The pain in her head was slowly subsiding, whether that was from painkillers or not she couldn't say, but she still wasn't coherent to the point of speaking.

There was a high pitched buzzing sound passing over her body, most likely a scanner. She felt it focus particularly over her head and heard several clicks of disapproval from Mercy's mouth. As much as she didn't want to admit it, in that moment Amélie was positively terrified of what was going to happen to her. It was like being on a table spread out before Talon all over again, being scanned and scrutinised, drugged and cut open.

Bile rose in her throat and she swallowed to keep it down, her left hand fumbling about on the bedsheets.

“L-Lena...” the words barely managed to croak out of her throat, but they were heard nonetheless. Warm fingers encircled her own.

“I'm 'ere luv.”

“Oh no you don't, out! The both of you!” Mercy was ushering the two out of the room, warm fingers suddenly vacant from Amélie's hand once again. “If she has any chance at survival I need to take her into surgery right away.”

Amélie's mind slipped away once again, she wasn't aware that she was being wheeled into an operating room until the sting of disinfectant hit her olfactory nerve and the muttering of nurses around her danced through her ears as though she was in some kind of dream state.

The fear slowly started to creep back, her fingers clenching at the sheets and her body desperately trying to haul herself out of that bed until a firm press against her chest held her down.

“Amélie listen to me, I want to help you but you need to cooperate with me.”

Mercy's voice was stern but kind; it wasn't long before Amélie's body began to betray her as she sank back into the mattress. Something cold and wet dribbled over her scalp.

“Okay Amélie, I'm going to put you to sleep now, just relax.”

There was a sensation of pressure at the bend of her elbow and a dizziness that overtook her body, a moment where she almost felt as though she were swimming, floating free without a care in the world, before reality slipped into nothingness.

~

“Mama!”

The voice of a girl, perhaps no older than six or seven, drifted on the wind, swirling around Amélie like a delicate mist, enveloping her in its fronds. She looked around but couldn't find the source of the sound.

“Mama!” It came again, and she spun on her heels just in time for the image to come into focus.

It was a beautiful autumn day, the leaves fell from the trees as they swayed restlessly in the breeze. The grass at the park was a deeper hue of green from the recent rains, soft enough that the girl's footsteps were muffled as they hurried towards her.

Shoulder length brown hair flew around her face like a mane, a gigantic grin on that child's face almost splitting her head in two; Amélie couldn't help herself but to smile as the girl ran right up to her and threw her arms around her legs.

“Salut, mon cherie ! Did you have fun on the playground?”

The girl nodded enthusiastically, looking up at Amélie and continuing to smile.

“Oui maman !”

Laughing softly, Amélie knelt down before her daughter, pulling the jacket from where it was tucked under her arm and assisting the girl in putting her arms through it. Once it was on, she made sure each button was done up securely.

“Mama Lee arrives home from her mission today, would you like to go surprise her at the train station?”

Bright hazel eyes with flecks of amber and jade looked at her as if she just might be the most amazing person on the planet, sparkling so brightly it was almost a bit blinding. The girl bounced up and down, her excitement unable to be contained.

“Can we?”

“Of course, little one,” Amélie replied, running her fingers through that unruly hair in an attempt to tame it into some semblance of tidiness, only giving up in the end and pressing a kiss to the girl's forehead. She stood and took her hand, walking along with the little bundle of energy even as her arm was almost pulled out of its socket several times.

A swirling grey mist enveloped her once more, shifting into something more dark, more sinister.

Tendrils of smoke like vicious vipers coiled around her arms and torso, squeezing her until the breath was pushed from her lungs; as she felt the life beginning to slip from her, the tendrils formed into the shape of men clad in Talon uniforms, their faces all obscured with masks of death.

Amélie felt pools of warm liquid around her legs where she was being held at her knees, restrained by these men with vice like grips. Her vision from her left eye was obscured by red as it flowed freely down her face, and her chest heaved as she struggled to inhale each breath.

Across the room from her, Reaper held Lena in a deathly grip, the woman's face covered in grazes and blood, her chronal accelerator flickering as sparks flew from the damaged apparatus.

Laboured sobbing from her right, she wished she could reach out to console their daughter who was also being held hostage by the Talon agents, the little girl's face streaming with tears as she begged for them to let her mummy go.

Clicking his tongue, Reaper tugged on the collar of Tracer's shirt, only making the little girl cry more desperately.

“Ah Widowmaker, did you really think you could hide from Talon after what you did to their base in Luxembourg?”

“You and your masters are monsters! You are nothing but a mere puppet to their sick wants and desires!”

A throaty chuckle from his throat was like sandpaper against her eardrums, turning her stomach. Cocking his gun, he pressed it into Lena's temple, eliciting a soft grunt from the smaller woman as she tried to shy away from the contact.

“I'll give my masters your regards,” he tilted his head as though watching to see just how she would respond.

In kind, she struggled against the men holding her, throwing herself against them with such force she could have rightfully ripped their arms from their sockets. There was a heavy 'crack!' against her skull, a dizziness overtaking her for a moment so that they could readjust their grip on her.

“Mama no! Please no don't hurt my mummy!”

Lena put on the bravest face Amélie had ever seen, looking their daughter right in the eyes and pressing a soft smile onto her cracked lips.

“Raina, sweetie close yer eyes for mummy, okay? Can you do that for me now?”

The girl continued sobbing, but did as she was told, her cheeks streaked with tears and her skin puffy and red. Amélie was breaking, her own eyes burning and the warm liquid spilling down her face and dribbling into her mouth as she began to sob openly.

Lena looked over at her, battered and bruised, nothing but love however shimmering in her eyes.

“Amélie, babe, I love you, ever since I first laid eyes on ya',” her smile faded, sparks flickering from her chest and illuminating the tears as they escaped her.

“How touching.”

Reaper's gun went off once, twice. There was screaming, ear piercing sounds that filled her ears and she didn't know if it was her own or their daughter's or both.

Darkness again, sweeping her away to a distant time. Her hands were worked to the point where callouses on her fingertips shut out any pain she might have felt as she accidentally slipped with an exacto knife and took a slice out of the end of her index finger. Bringing the digit up to her lips, she stuck it in her mouth and sucked on it while continuing to work on the device before her.

Thudding footsteps approached her from behind and she felt a firm hand clamp down on her shoulder. Reacting instinctively to the touch like fire, her entire body tensed and she turned her head just enough to shoot a warning glare to the ape peering at her with concern and weariness behind his glasses.

“Amélie, you don't have to do this.”

Turning away from him, she returned to her work, slicing through several more wires before tossing the knife aside and reaching for her soldering iron.

“Leave me to be, Winston. I will not be talked down from this.”

A heavy sigh, his fingers digging more firmly into her collarbone.

“I can't say I know exactly how you feel, but Talon took something from me that day too,” he paused, his voice sounding far away even though he was right behind her. “She was like a sister to me...”

“Salaud ! They took everything from me that day!” her fingers clenched painfully around the soldering iron, turning in her chair to face Winston so that he could see the burning rage smouldering in her eyes. He was taken aback at first, his expression soon waning to one of pity.

“They took my family from me, I have nothing left!”

Winston looked away, unable to find words to comfort Amélie. Shaking her head, she turned back to her work.

“All I'm asking is for you to think about what you're doing. Is this really what Lena would have wanted?”

Pausing in her work for a moment, she let a single tear fall from her right eye, but not allowing herself to feel any shred of remorse for what would become of Talon that night.

“What she would have wanted does not matter, she is no longer here,” listening as Winston retreated from the room, she steadied her hands. “But soon I shall see them again.”

~

Amélie's eyes snapped open, her vision hazy and so she blinked several times over. When that didn't help entirely clear her vision, she attempted to lift her arm to rub at her eyes, but found it held down firmly.

Blinking a few more times, her vision slowly sharpened until she was able to peer down and saw a mess of tangled brunette hair laying on her arm, a slender forearm attached to that body draped unceremoniously around her waist.

Amélie could have sworn there were memories swimming around her mind of a dream just had, a dream that had warned her of a possibly terrible future should she give in to this tiny British woman slumbering peacefully upon her; for the life of her however, she just couldn't recall it.

A smile made its way to the corners of her lips, and she closed her eyes, laying back against the pillow. She felt a calmness she had not felt in so long; no clawing at her skull, no unseen force instructing her every movement. She was... content.

That was, until the door to her room opened and Mercy entered it, her eyes bright and her face pleased to see that Amélie was no longer asleep.

“Ah good, you're awake,” she made her way over to the side of the hospital bed, her coat rustling about her body as she poked and prodded at Amélie's head to inspect the gauze that was wrapped around it. 

This disturbance also woke Tracer up, who shot up with a loud snort and pulled back from the bed as though bitten by a bug. It took a few moments for it to dawn on her where she was as well, but once she saw Amélie staring back at her with a cocked eyebrow she couldn't contain her enthusiasm.

“Luv, you're awake!” Amélie didn't bat an eyelash as the brunette stood, taking her hand in both of her own and squeezing it. It was soft, and warm; she quite enjoyed the feeling. Angela noticed the contact, but thankfully did not mention it out loud.

“How are you feeling?” Angela inquired, tapping a few buttons on Amélie's monitor and taking down some readings.

Amélie grunted softly, trying to sit up but finding herself too weak, instead laying back down against the pillow, defeated.

“Like I was tackled by Reinhardt.”

Lena snickered, Angela shot her a glare.

“What... what happened?” Amélie hissed as Angela bent down over her and delicately began to unravel the gauze from her head.

“You took a bullet to the side of your head,” layers of white fabric fell from above her eyes, stained with tiny splotches of red and brown. “You are incredibly lucky that it only grazed you.”

Angela moved to a set of cupboards behind her, pulling open a door and retrieving a roll of gauze and some disinfectant. Preparing the items to clean up her patient, she tilted Amélie's head to the side to allow her access to the wound.

“While we were there, we were able to remove all of the neural implants from your brain. It is fortunate we did so, the malfunctioning equipment was killing you, if it had been left much longer... well...”

The connotations were there, Overwatch had essentially saved her life.

“They took 'em all outta' yer head,” Tracer frowned, her forehead crinkling with anger at the thought of what had been done to Amélie. “Those bloody bastards!”

Baring a pointed look at Lena, Angela resumed her work, cleaning over Amélie's wound and re-wrapping it with fresh gauze.

“Your implants were slowing your circulatory system, you are lucky that it doesn't seem to have caused any permanent damage,” lifting Amélie's head, she wrapped the gauze around it carefully. “Your hearth rhythm seems to be returning to normal function, skin colour is coming back as your cardiovascular system is flushed through with plenty of blood.”

Amélie grunted as Angela taped the gauze down, the material tight against her skin but not entirely unbearable. She lifted a hand into her vision slowly, turning it over and inspecting the pale flesh that even now was still losing its oxygen deprived blue tinge.

Her body felt a little warmer than she was used to, her cheeks pooling with a light flush.

“You look just as good in pink as ya' do in blue.”

Angela scoffed in disbelief, albeit her lips twitched with what Amélie assumed was a suppressed smile. Lena- as usual- looked ever so pleased with herself.

“Lena, I appreciate your high spirits, but please refrain from stressing out my patient.”

An exaggerated eye roll, followed by Lena flopping backwards into her chair was enough to make the good Doctor shake her head, giving up on the girl and instead turning her attention back to Amélie. She rested a hand against her shoulder, her expression stern but a softness behind her eyes.

“I cannot stress enough that you need to rest,” pulling her hand away, she straightened her coat and flashed a smile. “I will have a nurse bring you dinner shortly,” her eyes shifting to Lena, “and Lena, please, try to be on your best behaviour.”

Sitting up stock straight in her chair, Lena snapped a hand to her forehead and cocked a cheeky grin.

“Aye aye, ma'am!”

Clucking her tongue and furrowing her brow, Angela tucked her clipboard under her arm and gave Lena one last unapproving glance before turning and making her exit from the room. 

The space fell to silence; Amélie could feel eyes upon her, turning her head to find Lena staring at her with that look on her face that made her feel like she was under a microscope. Shifting in her bed, she gave a small scowl; she could not force herself to maintain the gaze.

“Why did you come for me?” shifting again under the sheets, the fabric scratched at her sensitive skin and felt like a straight jacket, strangling her. “You should have left Talon to finish me.”

More silence, this one longer, and she felt a soft sound escape Tracer's lips although she wasn't entirely sure if she had intended to say something or not. Instead, she found small hands reaching over her and pulling the bed sheets down to around her hips, allowing her body to feel less restricted and the cooling breeze from the ducted air-conditioning overhead to brush against her.

Another short silence, she looked over begrudgingly. “Merci.”

A small smile pressed into freckled cheeks.

“You're right balmy if ya' think I'd just let ya' go get yer head lopped off by yourself,” shaking her head so that her messy brunette hair flicked about her face, Tracer cautiously reached out with a hand until she found Amélie's fingers.

Amélie peered down, upturning her palm and watching as a small hand wrapped around her own.

“I knew after our thing at the market that somethin' was up, you seemed... different.”

Thin fingers began to trace patterns absent mindedly in her palm, covering every single scar and wrinkle.

“Mighta' snuck a trackin' device on ya' while we were snoggin',” Amélie's face snapped up to find a wicked grin and a winking Brit looking back at her. “Yeah, sorry bout that, but it was a good thing, innit?”

Letting out a short breath, Amélie wasn't even capable of pretending that she was surprised by what she was hearing, merely closing her eyes and shaking her head and muttering under her breath.

“You are absolutely impossible.”

“You like it.”

Amélie's cheeks warmed, but she refused to look in Lena's direction, settling with distracting her mind with the fingers now plotting a course along the joint of her wrist and over her forearm. It was still a bizarre, strange experience to feel another human touch her in such a way, but she wasn't completely adverse to it; at least, not when it was Lena that was doing it.

Unfortunately, her moment of peace was interrupted as Lena's communicator on her wrist blipped, it's little screen lighting up with blue words that Amélie could not read from her bed even when she tilted her head for a better angle. All she could make out was the way it basked Lena's face in a soft blue glow, somehow making her hazel eyes appear even more vibrant than they were usually.

The Brit pursed her lips, seeming disappointed as she read the message.

“Bugger,” closing the message, she stood from her chair and twisted her body from side to side to work the kinks out. “Sorry luv, Winston wants me in the lab. Needs to make some more adjustments to my chronal accelerator, s'been on the blink for a bit now.”

Amélie tried to sit up, this time managing to shuffle upwards against her pillow just enough that she didn't feel so weak and helpless.

“I'll see ya' a bit later on then, yeah?” a warm smile, gentle fingers finding their way to her cheek and cupping it. Amélie found herself leaning into the touch.

“Oui.”

Her response must have been adequate, Tracer's face lighting up as though she'd just gotten the best news in ages. She had to admit, that woman's bubbly personality was getting to her in places she no longer thought existed.

“Right, well,” Tracer pulled her hand away, cheeks turning red and only making her freckles stand out more. She ran a hand through her hair and tried to maintain herself as she began to make her way to the door. “Later, then!”

With that, the brunette was gone. Just like that, Amélie felt a sinking feeling of emptiness and loneliness that had nothing to do with being alone, so much as it had to do with her being without Lena.

Still, there was no use in feeling sorry for oneself. Though her body was still weak and the IV in her arm made moving it difficult, she sat up as best as she could and made a promise to herself that she would be out of this bed before anyone could tell her otherwise.

~


	6. Chapter 6

At first Angela had heavily insisted that Amélie stay hooked up to her IV, just to be cautious. However, when Amélie had scowled and very strongly worded that she would not, under any circumstances, be going to the bathroom in a bed pan, Angela had agreed to remove the IV so that the woman could make her way around the corner to the bathroom. Under supervision, of course.

She never understood the fuss doctors made when you were under their care. Over ninety percent of their job involved writing notes and prodding in places she did not appreciate, in her own eyes she was well and fit enough to get up and about on her own and without assistance, even if she was still struck with an uncomfortable sensation in her chest as she adjusted to her normalising heart rate.

As well as that, the stitches on her scalp were scabbing and beginning to itch underneath the bandaging. Angela, Lena, and one of the nurses had already caught her scratching at the fabric several times as the wound healed.

It had only been a few days, but she was getting antsy. Her joints were stiff and her muscles ached; part of her longed once again to be running and swinging from rooftops as she chased down her prey. Lena, though childish as she could be, was no fool and had noticed her restlessness.

“Ya gotta' rest luv, doc's orders.”

When Amélie had scoffed at this, Lena had very firmly leant over and wriggled her index finger against the French woman's nose.

“Yeah it sucks innit, but Angela pulled all those bits and bobs out of yer 'ead and ya' wouldn't even be here if it weren't for 'er.”

While she hated to admit it, Lena was right. She owed Overwatch her life, and Lena... perhaps even more.

So here she was, stuck in her hospital room with nothing much to do except eat, sleep, and- incredibly- enjoy Tracer's attention whenever the woman came to visit her. Still, she made the most of it, if only because it would be difficult to sneak out even in the dead of night. Looking at the bright side of things, at least while she was under the protection of Overwatch there would most likely not be any attempts by Talon either to reclaim her or destroy her.

Though the mind controlling and biology altering technology inside of her skull had been removed, she would still never be the same woman she was before Talon. They had strapped her down, tortured her and conditioned her to feel nothing but hatred and to be filled with a rush whenever a life was snuffed out at her own hand.

It was a darkness still that seeped through every crack and every fibre of her body, one that made her fingers twitch as though they were pulling the trigger. One that clawed its way into her dreams, filling them with rage and blood lust.

She had to kill them. Every last one of them. Whether they were directly involved in her being turned into a monster or if they were just a clerk who didn't even know her name; she would hunt down everyone who worked for Talon and bring their lives to an end the way they brought hers to an end that evening she had killed Gerard.

Blood filled her vision, thick and sticky as she brushed it away with a dirty palm. A man whimpered, she didn't care. Even as he reached up with an open hand of surrender she had pulled him close and buried her dagger deeply under his chin.

His blood had been warm, soothing, dribbling down the backs of her fingers and filling her body with heat. Lips turned into a devilish smile that took in every single detail as she watched the life flicker from her victim's eyes.

Sheets rustled and she found herself sitting up straight in bed, chest feeling as though it might burst through her rib cage and her skin clammy, soaked in sweat that made her night dress cling to her body.

Her lungs heaved as they struggled to deliver oxygen to her blood stream, the images of death at her own hands still strong in her mind. Even as she peered down at her hands, palms facing up, she saw how her fingers trembled as though not under her own control.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she balled them into fists and willed it to stop. The room was already dim, the lights having been turned down many hours ago now. Though she wasn't sure what time it was, she knew there would be no way she would be able to go back to sleep even if she tried.

That was it. Amélie threw the sheets off her legs, swinging them over the edge of the bed and taking a few cautious moments to peer down and make sure her feet found the ground. Once they did, she pulled herself out of bed with all the strength she had.

Her legs were a little wobbly at first, she had to reach out and steady herself with her hand against the wall; after this she managed to maintain even steps until she made it to the door, pulling it open as slow as possible.

There were no guards, and no nurses in sight, to her relief. Making her way out of the room she decided to take the hallway to her right, following the small lights that glowed softly from their half moon shaped domes.

The hall led down to a set of double doors that she pushed open, her feet clapping softly against the linoleum floor beneath. Another hall split off of this one, and she turned right again. This time she was able to find a door with a little glowing green sign labelled 'Exit', and with shivering arms she reached out and shoved the door open.

A sharp, cold wind hit her already cool body, and she found herself outside on a patio area. In the distance she could see grass, bushes, trees and other garden decorations. There was a paved footpath that wound its way throughout the shrubs, lit by gently glowing solar lights that were dotted along its edges.

Everything was visible in tones of greys and blues, a thick layer of cloud bubbling and swelling over what little of the moon sat above, barely a faint glow of its cheery face visible to the naked eye. The clouds were hues of purple and navy, surely threatening to spill a downpour at any given moment.

Suddenly her legs felt heavy, her eyes snapping shut as visions- memories- flooded through her mind. Pools of blood surrounded her, rivers of innards and body parts, a child crying for their mother.

Clutching at her abdomen, Amélie grunted and squeezed her eyes even tighter, grimacing as though in pain and the reflex memory of a trigger squeeze pulsed through her index finger. She felt surrounded by strangers and enemies, trapped like a caged tiger; how she longed in that moment to be dancing across rooftops and chasing down a frightened target.

She opened her eyes. There; in the distance.

A small water feature bubbled and splashed down the surface of a piece of slate, running into a catchment bowl underneath it, feeding it back up via a pump. A few feet from the fountain was a wooden bench, slightly weathered and even a bit crooked, seating a small woman.

There was no mistaking that mess of brown hair.

Somehow, she found the strength to steady her legs, still gripping her arms around her now frigid body. One foot in front of the other, even as it took longer than it would have if she was in fighting condition, Amélie pressed forwards until she was close enough to catch the other woman's attention.

Lena spotted her in her peripheral, a face that had momentarily appeared so relaxed in an instant became plastered with concern.

The Brit got up in a heartbeat, rushing over to her side.

“Amélie?”

Warm hands slid over her arms, applying firm pressure and sharing body heat. Smoky hazel eyes searched over her features, her own eyes meeting Lena's and holding her gaze before slowly inching over the slender shape of the woman's jaw; pink lips were so plump, parted just enough that she could feel the brush of heated air rushing from between them.

“What are ya' doin' out here, luv? You should be resting,” Lena pulled one of the French woman's arms over her shoulders, holding her weight and slipping one of her own around Amélie's waist. The raven-haired woman shuddered, her heart pulsing from the mere sensation of Lena pressed beside her.

Her eyes slid to the side as she watched the woman assist her in making her way over to the bench. Even now, there was a part inside of her that itched to chase the brunette in a thrilling game of cat and mouse, even if she never caught her. However, there was an even more tempting reason to capture her than to simply secure a kill.

“Cheri, you should know better than to try and cage a spider.”

Lena snorted, and it wasn't an entirely obnoxious sound.

“You 'aint no spider luv, you're a human being, just like me.”

With the woman's assistance, she tucked her hospital dress out of the way and slowly took a seat on the garden bench, not entirely unaware that Lena continued to have an arm wrapped around her shoulders. She took a quick breath, noting the wisps of condensation that played from her lips as she exhaled.

“I am a monster,” she turned her head to peer at her companion from behind sparkling amber eyes. “You would be a fool to believe anything other than that.”

Her head and heart were conflicted, full of torment that reminded her of everything she was conditioned to be; an unfeeling creature of the night, remorseless and bloodthirsty. Though her will was once her own again and she had broken free of the umbilical cord that had entwined her with Talon, her chest still ached with a desire to hunt and kill to such an extent that it should have terrified her.

She expected Lena to be staring back at her with fear and hatred, perhaps even for her to get up and leave right now to spare herself from the hands of a murderer. It was selfish of Amélie to believe that the woman would remain by her side, and yet she wanted it more than anything, even more than she wanted for her to flee.

To her surprise, Lena's head was tilted and her hazel eyes were staring back at her with such kindness and devotion that it made the fine hairs on the nape of her neck prickle up in response.

“What I believe is none of ya' business,” a quick smile and a small set of fingers slid over into Amélie's lap, cautiously slipping over her own. “But if ya' must know, I reckon' there's a sweet little French broad hidin' away in there somewhere.”

Amélie peered down at their hands, her head shifting from side to side as she shook it, in disbelief of what she was hearing from the Brit's mouth. A tiny smile crept onto her lips as she rolled her hand palm up, allowing Lena's warm fingers to slide between her own until they were linked.

“My sweet, I can never be the Amélie I once was.”

She looked up, meeting Lena's gaze and allowing the smile to fade from her features. “If that is what you had desired-”

“I'm not tryin' ta make you 'you' again,” Lena's voice was firm, her eyebrows lowered and her irises shifting from side to side. It almost appeared as if she was slightly offended by such an insinuation. 

As though to drive the point home, the brunette took Amélie's hand that was linked to her own, dragging it over to her torso and spreading slender fingers out over the glowing blue orb in the centre of her chronal accelerator.

“I'm just tryin' to show you what yer been missin' out on.”

Such a vulnerable position. Amélie knew that at any moment she could drive her fist through the device, destroying it and using that as an advantage to destroy Lena in the process. Her fingers twitched momentarily, a pleasant warmth and a buzzing sensation making her whole arm tingle and making her want to flex her palm out even further.

The material was surprisingly soft to the touch, perhaps a hybrid material. Regardless, it was sturdy and did not feel as though it would be easy to damage in any case. She wondered how comfortable such a device must be, if it was irritating to the woman's body.

As though they had a mind of their own, her fingers slid down the side of the device and found a small nook where the harnesses slipped over Lena's chest, sliding underneath and pressing into the soft white shirt that was separating her skin from the other's.

Amélie splayed her digits, watching as her hand rose with a sharp inhalation from Lena. It had intended to be a quick breath, but the air caught in the brunette's throat from the sensation of a human touch beneath her harness, the movement catching her off guard and causing her breath to hitch in her throat and her exhalation to come out in a shudder. 

Amber eyes watched intently, a feeling of satisfaction welling up in Amélie's chest as she watched Lena's eyelids flutter and patches of flushed skin to pop up along her neck and jawline. It was far too easy, far too tempting, yet she was having trouble identifying just why she felt an insatiable need not to kill, but have Lena's hands pressed against her and pulling her close. She felt a fire igniting in her gut every time they made eye contact; it was too much too soon, burning her from the inside out.

Her fingers wanted to travel, to touch, they longed to press deeper and feel the pulsing of a heartbeat against their tips. But even as she longed, her hands trembled and she found her throat dry, an irrational fear gripping her chest.

“Luv,”

Amélie dared to look up, meeting Lena's eyes and feeling the warmth of the smaller girl's fingers wrapping around her own. They squeezed, and the brunette's lips softened into a tender smile.

“I know yer anxious, but ya' don't have to do anything to please me,” her voice was soft, reassuring. A hand reached out, brushing her dusky hair behind an ear. “How 'bout we take it slow yeah? We got all the time in the world, and I'm right more than happy to wait until yer right n' proper again.”

She let out a breath, her chest burning with the action. So much she wanted to say, but she couldn't think with Lena's fingers now creeping along the inside of her forearm. It was such a mild form of intimacy and yet even that small gesture made Amélie feel as though her stomach was turning inside out and her head was spinning.

“Chéri, I might never reverse the blood lust Talon's conditioning instilled in my very being,” she found her voice, and managed well enough to sound apologetic even though her tone was harsh.

Lena's hand slid up her arm, tracing a line up her neck that sent goosebumps prickling along her skin, coming to a rest at her jawline. A calloused thumb fluttered across her lower lip; she did not resist the urge to kiss the digit.

“Y'know, Overwatch could always use more good agents.”

It was so corny, so heroic, Amélie found it difficult to take the woman seriously. However, maybe that had been her intention, her lips curling into a soft smile and a wispy laugh escaping her lips. Lena's brows lifted and her eyes brightened once she saw this reaction, perhaps she was pleased she had managed to extract some form of happiness from the French woman.

“Oui,” Amélie lay her hand over Lena's, pressing the warm digits more firmly against her face. “We shall see, ma belle.”

A chill ran through the air, the wind picking up and the clouds overhead swirling in response. The breeze blew through the foliage of the trees, speaking in hushed whispers and whistles, dying down for a few seconds only to pick back up again with an almighty gust.

“C'mon, better get ya' back inside, yer gonna' freeze out 'ere.”

She wanted to argue that her body had been chilled to the bone longer than she could remember, the biological modifications that had previously been implanted in her controlling everything from her heart rate to her hormones. She could have argued, but the smaller woman slid her padded jacket off her arms, leaning up and wrapping it over her hospital shirt.

Amélie's fingers gripped the collar of the jacket, pulling it more tightly around herself and taking a moment to breathe in the fresh scent the Brit had left on the material. It was... soft, earthy, a little musky with a hint of vanilla; a perfume that wasn't so overpowering it made her sinuses burn. It was pleasant, comforting.

She would not admit it, but her body was tired and her head still ached; she was very much grateful that Lena steadied her, a hand laid gently on her lower back as they made their way back inside and out of the cold.

They managed to slip back into Amélie's room without alerting the nurses to their late night escape, Lena pulling the sheets back and assisting her into her bed despite the scowl she gave and then dismissive hand she waved in the brunette's direction.

“Casse-pieds ! I am quite capable of taking care of myself.”

Another snort from her companion.

They looked at one another as Lena pulled the sheets up to Amélie's chest, making sure they were tucked in and tidy with a smooth of her palm. Lena was wearing a cocky smile and a lifted eyebrow that was only just visible from underneath her mop of hair as it fell across her face.

A small pout pushing into her lips, the French woman settled down into the bed, her bandages shuffling against the pillow but it actually felt incredibly good to be laying down again. She tried not to meet eyes as a hand swept over her face, knuckles grazing her cheek.

“Same time tomorrow yeah?”

It was partially a joke, being that she knew they shouldn't be sneaking around in the middle of the night like two smitten teenagers in the first place. But on the other hand, she knew Lena would return to visit her some time tomorrow; unless she got caught up in an assignment or on patrol. There was part of her that was jealous at the thought of Lena out there, getting to shoot people and engage in combat. There was also a part of her that was jealous she wouldn't be out there, engaged in combat beside her.

A thrill ran up her spine, the thought of her keeping the woman in her sights, covering her from above and plucking off Talon agents; keeping her safe.

Her finger twitched.

“May I kiss you?”

The words had left her mouth before her brain had had a chance to engage, and now here she lay, heat rising in her cheeks and her heart racing, unable to turn and make eye contact. A soft chuckle danced near her earlobe, a sound that made her toes curl underneath the sheets.

“Well then, since ya' asked so nicely.”

A moment later, delicate fingers turned her head and soft lips applied pressure to her own. Her body tensed, her chest seized, the connection seeming to last forever until Lena's lips parted and bumped against hers playfully, teasing. Amélie was compliant, a whimper coming from her throat as she tilted her head, her lips opening to allow more contact as Lena's mouth pressed to hers.

A rush of air from the brunette's nostrils ghosted against her cheek, warm and familiar. She felt the blood rushing through her body, pounding in her head, and as much as she never wanted this moment to end she willed herself to pull away. Clutching onto Lena's shirt, she did not allow the woman to leave her personal space just yet.

“Je suis désolé, this is... overwhelming for me.”

Lena leant in again, this time pressing only the lightest of kisses to her lips.

“Take yer time, I 'aint goin' nowhere luv.”

Amélie lay against her pillow once more, letting out a barely audible sigh and letting her eyes slide shut.

“Well, 'cept to get some shut eye,” an edge of humour returning to her voice, she leant forwards and made sure Amélie was tucked in yet again. “Take it easy, yeah?”

A short nod was her reply, and after a brief moment of hesitation, the Brit finally pulled herself away from Amélie's bedside and made her way to the door.

“Night!”

“Bonne nuit, les amoreux.”

The door shut as the smaller woman made her exit, the lights automatically dimming as she did so. As the room fell into darkness, shadows slipping along the walls as the wind played against the trees outside her window, Amélie snuggled into the jacket that Lena had let her keep for the time being. She hummed quietly, running a thumb over the soft suede fabric.

Outside the sound of rain could be heard, beginning to patter against the glass window. A night like this would be perfect for hunting down Talon agents, under the cover of darkness, footsteps and grappling hook silenced by the weather.

Amélie wondered how long it would be before she would be combat ready once more.

~


	7. Chapter 7

“Under no circumstances!”

Amélie scowled and flexed her fingers, balling them into fists until the skin on the back of her knuckles began to pale. She stood face to face with the doctor who had been taking care of her health for the past three weeks now, and if she was completely honest she was at the point in time where she wanted nothing more than to be free from her grasp.

It was one thing to keep her here while her body healed from the inside out, it was a completely different thing to her wants and desires being snatched from under foot. She could feel her joints and muscles pulling and aching, itching with a need to stretch out and pursue an opponent.

Lena, being the sweet young woman she was, had let her know that her sniper rifle was in the weapons storage cache in the South wing. Through Amélie's reasonable knowledge of the layout of the base they were currently residing in, she was 87% sure she knew exactly where that was and how to get to it; it would be naïve to assume they would just give her her weapon back and send her on her merry way.

However, she had attempted regardless. Very nonchalantly even, getting out of bed and standing up straight before Angela Ziegler with the most intimidating and cold expression she could muster.

“I have been your pet science project for long enough,” pausing just enough for emphasis, she blinked slowly. “I demand you clear me for combat and return my weapons and armour to me immediately.”

Amélie had felt quite pleased with herself upon witnessing the absolute shock on the dear doctor's face, her eyes bulging and her lips falling open in horror as if she had just burst in upon Amélie and Lena in the throws of passion. Very quickly the horror had crept up on Amélie instead, the doctor's face turning in mere seconds to that of impending wrath, giving her just a taste of one of the very reasons why this woman was in such a high position of power in the first place.

That day she had learned that Angela was not all soft hands gently re-wrapping bandages and cheerful smiles to every nurse she passed, even when her eyes were rimmed with dark bags from another busy night and only four hours sleep.

Angela had pressed herself into Amélie's space in a single stride, eyes ablaze with the fires of a thousand suns that for the briefest of moments made the sniper regret opening her mouth in the first place. A foot stepped back; she managed to catch herself before falling off balance.

“Do you think I so easily forget who you are and what you are capable of?”

The words were fast, sharp like needles puncturing her tender flesh. A nimble forefinger reached out, jabbing Amélie in the chest with enough force to leave her skin stinging.

“I do not judge,” the doctor shook her head, face softening then and her brow crinkling. She looked older, tired. “Not like the others. You do not hear the things they whisper. For that you should be grateful.”

Amélie paused, swallowing as a pit formed in her stomach and the world around her suddenly felt like a swirling void prepared to suck her down into nothingness.

“But you are my patient, first and foremost. You are no soldier, no assassin,” Angela's voice softened, her hand brushing up and curling around the French woman's shoulder, squeezing. “Your body may well be on its way to recovery, but your mind is not. You have many mental scars you must overcome before holding a rifle once more.”

Leaning back from Angela, Amélie squared off her shoulders and set her lips into a tight scowl, not wanting to give this woman an inch.

“You do not know me at all, dear doctor,” Amélie scorned, the seething anger in her voice evident at the end of her sentence, her eyebrows lowering. Her amber eyes flickered over Mercy's form, sliding up and down her body, sizing her up.

Momentarily, Angela flinched, taken off guard.

“I could snap you in two if I so desired,” she rolled her shoulders, her scowl flattening out once more into neutrality. “Lucky for you the only ones I seek justice against will take me far from you and the rest of Overwatch.”

The two regarded each other for some time, judging the others motives and waiting for something that might eventuate; violence or otherwise. After a good ten seconds though, Amélie straightened her shirt- it was a pale grey tank Lena had leant her, it was a little snug on her figure- and let out an airy laugh.

“You are not worth my time.”

In that brief moment, Angela's face fell; she seemed disappointed, her eyes dimming and the tiredness returning to her features. She merely stepped to the side, no longer blocking the doorway of the small quarters Amélie had been transferred to. 

“Fine then, against my better judgement. Leave, if it's so what you wish.”

Feeling rather satisfied with the results of her intimidation, Amélie retrieved a coat from the small, hammock like bed on the left side of the room, slipping it over her arms and heading towards the exit; all while under the constant watch of Angela's eyes. She could feel them burning into her, judging her, even when she could not see them.

So, she ignored it, pushing past her and moving to exit the room.

“And what shall I tell Lena?”

Pausing in the open doorway, Amélie's hand reached out and found the door frame, grasping it tightly in order to hold herself in place lest she change her mind in that moment. Tightly clenching her teeth together, she did not turn to face Angela as she spoke.

“You will tell her nothing, doctor.”

Silence. Angela was likely nodding her agreement but Amélie would never know as she did not turn to look. Her slender fingers drummed on the slick, cold metal of the doorway, her thoughts beginning to run rampant and she knew she had to make her way out of there.

She inhaled quickly, the sound catching in her throat and revealing far more to listening ears than she had wished.

“It is the only way to protect her.”

Letting go, she pulled the jacket tightly around her frame and took off down the hallway, focussing only on the ground beneath her feet and refusing to let images of a small brunette flutter through her mind.

~

Amélie Lacroix had one job to do, and she was determined to do it. She had ditched the overly perverted armour that Talon had controlled her into wearing, finding instead thick black pants and a sweater that had carbon fibres wound throughout the fabric, offering an extra layer of protection. She had considered a bulletproof vest to top it all off, but the extra weight and bulk would make it much more difficult for her to move silently and efficiently, and so she had foregone it.

No, so long as she remained hidden from sight, it would be incredibly unlikely that she would end up in the direct line of fire.

She did not have access to the funds she previously did when she was under the thumb of Talon, and so she had used her considerable skills to steal any money necessary from businesses, deep in the middle of the night. Lena would probably be somewhat proud of her, at least; she had only stolen from the wealthy, and not from the hard working family businesses that struggled to pay their rent.

It had only been a few days since she had gathered her rifle and left the relative safety of Overwatch, but already she felt a keen sense of emptiness. She had, in a sense, grown rather fond of the over protective eye of Angela and the daily visits from Lena. Especially when said visits gave her an excuse to be dragged outside into the fresh air, wandering the gardens and listening as Lena rambled on about the mischief she had gotten up to on her patrol earlier on in the day.

In fact, it wasn't unpleasant at all.

If it had been anyone else, she likely would have threatened to shut them up via crushing their throat. However when Lena was speaking in her soft, Soprano voice, giggling as she recalled a rather lewd joke she'd told Lucio the previous afternoon, Amélie found herself even smiling on the occasion and sharing affectionate glances with her companion.

Tightening the Velcro clasp on her gloves, she let out a soft breath, staring down at her pale fingers and reminding herself why she was doing this; why she had to leave Lena behind.

A storm would be rolling in in a few hours, giving her the perfect opportunity for cover. She had been tracking a lower ranked Talon sergeant for two days now, the man was careless enough when leaving the base that it was far too easy to track him to his place of residence. Now, she just needed to wait it out until he was in his home, all comfortable and alone; the rumbling of thunder and clattering of rain would provide all the noise she needed to drown out any sound that might come from her assassination.

Amélie peered out the window, that's if you could really call it a window. A yard two houses down from her target's home had a tree house in its backyard, and it seemed the family were away on vacation, as far as she could tell. No one had come or gone, and it was the perfect vantage point over her target's bedroom and kitchen windows.

All she had to do was wait.

The only problem with waiting now was that it gave her mind time to become distracted, to think of things other than her task at hand. Something she could never do before Mercy saved her life and removed the evil that had been planted inside of her body.

Her back was pressed firmly up against the wall opposite of the window, staring at the stained timber that had been used to build the tree house. There were a few splinters here and there, and some of the nails were crooked. No doubt some poor parent had spent hours toiling away to build this hideaway for their young child.

The last remnants of daylight started to slip away as a thick layer of coal black clouds rolled across the horizon, swallowing up the sun and any light it might have to offer the city. Blankets of grey fell in the distance, approaching rains that looked like a fine sheet of silk. Amélie watched, listened, the excited warbling of a family of birds nearby lulling her until she found her eyelids growing heavy.

Her arms crossed over her chest, hugging against her body. She shuffled up against the wall, hoping that sitting up more straight would help to keep her alert, but it was not long before a cool breeze caressed her cheek and her eyelids fell shut.

Amélie's head bobbed, eyes opening, she craned her neck upwards until her gaze met Lena's. The brunette was looking down at her, wearing a gigantic grin and a rosy tint to the apples of her cheeks.

“Did ya' feel it that time?”

Nodding, Amélie's eyebrows almost reached to her hairline, the flat of her palm cupping over the bulge of Lena's stomach and waiting expectantly to feel another jolt against her. It didn't take long, the gentle 'thump thump' of Lena's heartbeat and gurgling of her stomach eventually gave way to the sensation of yet another bump, this time against her fingers.

“Oof, me bladder!” Lena exclaimed, her knees retracting upwards in response and squeezing together. “Bleedin' 'ell she's gotta' set a' legs on 'er.”

Although she truly did feel sympathetic towards her pregnant lover, she could not help but to let out a soft chuckle, fingers sliding softly over Lena's belly and delicately tracing down the stretch lines that began to grow a little more every week.

“Does ma chérie need to.... oui oui?”

There was a lengthy pause, Lena holding her breath, perhaps staring at Amélie in absolute disgust.

“I bloody hate you sometimes.”

A soft mumbling, she crawled up Lena's body until her head came to rest in the warm little nook between arm and breast, closing her eyes again and smiling to herself as she felt Lena's fingers intertwine with her own.

“Surely if you hated me so, you would not commit to create life with me, mon amour.”

Another hand, this one finding its way through the tresses of her endless black hair, threading through it at a gentle pace and occasionally brushing along her scalp. The sensation was warm, comforting. Although Amélie was much longer than her partner, she found a way to wind her legs around Lena's, weaving them together to make any kind of escape impossible for the smaller woman.

Lena wriggled in her arms, her brow crinkling in discomfort as Amélie felt another kick against her hand.

“She is strong.” Amélie remarked, using the palm of her hand to caress over the stretched out skin and soothe both her lover and their unborn child. Lena let loose a single laugh, the sound dry and sarcastic.

“Just like you yeah?”

It was Amélie's turn to laugh, her own being soft and musical.

“And perhaps bright, like you.”

A metallic beeping began to fill the air, chirping from Amélie's wrist. The brunette pouted in protest, the French woman freeing herself enough from the intimate moment in order to bring her wrist up close enough to see why her Comms were alerting her. Pulling up the message, her face illuminated with the soft glow of blue, not so dissimilar from that of Lena's chronal accelerator.

“Désolé, mon amour, it appears my skills are required for the evening.”

An eyebrow quirked, Lena's lip curving up ever so slightly into a teasing smile.

“Well tell 'er to bugger off, that skilled tongue of yours is all mine.”

Despite how long they had been together for now, the Brit never failed to find a way to make her blush like she was a teenager all over again. The redness spread all the way to the tips of her ears, the teasing she knew would be inevitable unless she found a way to counter Lena's statement.

“Riling up your lover before a mission, hmm? I suppose you want me to take care of myself without you, oui?”

It worked. Lena's expression dropped to one of absolute horror as though she had just received the worst threat imaginable; to be fair, it was pretty high up on the list of terrible threats.

“What? That's not fair!” the brunette whined, wriggling into a sitting position while watching the raven-haired woman stand up and head to the adjoining bathroom. Amélie turned, a cocked eyebrow and a flicker in her eyes beckoning to her lover.

“If only I had a woman who wished to lend me her hand.”

Long, slender arms lifted her shirt over her head, a pulse of heat travelling through her body as she watched Lena's eyes darken with lust and take in the sight of her bare back.

It's quite possible she had never seen the Brit get out of bed so fast in her entire life.

Time seemed to slip and fade, shapes twisting into a smoky blur of nothingness before pale shades of navy, purples and orange began to fill her vision.

“Maman! Maman!” small hands pressed into her shoulder, shoving her and rocking her quite literally out of an incredibly sound sleep.

Her eyes cracked open, greeted by a soundly sleeping Lena facing her, lips parted slightly and snoring just loud enough to irritate Amélie. How was it that that woman could sleep through almost anything while she was left being awoken at even the slightest sound made in the house?

“Maman get up! You promised to take me to the zoo today!”

“I am up,” Amélie mumbled as she rolled over, though she was fairly certain that her eyes were only half open and the wisps of a lovely dream still danced about in her thoughts. She half made out the form of her daughter, wearing her very favourite purple pyjamas dotted with giraffes and elephants, kneeling next to her and wearing an expression that was very reminiscent of Lena when she didn't get her way.

“No you're not, you gotta' get up!” Raina shoved against her shoulder again, becoming more insistent. “Wake up, wake up!”

“Hey, wake up! You're in my tree house!”

Shaken out of her slumber, her glistening eyes of gold and dust shot open and her hand instinctively reached for her boot where she was currently concealing a short hunting knife. Her fingertips were almost upon it when her head swung around to meet a small, young face staring down at her with a rather displeased look upon it.

“Pardon?”

The small boy huffed, as if well and truly miffed that he should have to repeat himself. He flung his head back, mop of blonde hair flopping about his face like a cotton rag.

“I said. This is my tree house!” he paused for dramatic effect, eyelids lowering as he stared her down with utmost annoyance. “What are you doing in my tree house?”

Glowing eyes blinked slowly, her lips parted as though to reply but for the life of her she truly could not think of how to respond to the young child. Perhaps she shouldn't have been so careless as to assume the family would not return home before she finished her job, but there was no time for regrets now. Instead, she reached for her weapon where it lay propped against the wall beside her. The boys eyes bulged and he seemed to shrink in fear.

“Is that a gun?” he asked, before realising just how stupid it sounded. Of course it was a gun. “Why do you have a gun?”

Amélie pulled the rifle into her lap, checking the ammo clip to triple check she had loaded it earlier. Her eyes peered at the boy, unfeeling, watching how he reacted to her every movement. She stood, now looming over him.

Reaching out, she pressed her fingers through his hair and pushed it out of his face, attempting to tuck it neatly behind his ear.

“Ah, mon petit, it is to protect those who cannot protect themselves,” she thought on this sentiment for a moment, her lip twitching into a slight smile as the boy relaxed. “It is to take care of some very bad people.”

The boy looked into her eyes, trying to judge whether or not she was telling the truth, before his gaze shifted to her rifle and looked at it rather intently. He looked as though he might have reached out and tried to touch it, but instead he shoved his hands into the pockets of his navy blue jumper.

“Are you going to shoot someone with it?”

It was hard in that moment to stifle a laugh that struggled oh so fervently to make it out of her mouth. Her arm lifted, shouldering her rifle with a heavy 'thunk' against her body and looking down at the boy with a deadly fire in her eyes.

“She has claimed more lives than you could possibly count, what is but one more?”

She reached forwards, placing her fingers under his chin and meeting his gaze directly, briefly enjoying the tremor of fear that flashed behind his pupils. A wicked smile tugged at her lips.

“Go now, jeune,” her smile faded, a crackling of lightning pulsing through the sky and illuminating the tree house in a brilliance of blue and white. “Go to the safety of your parents and do not leave their side, and do not mind any sounds you might hear.”

The boy swallowed, eyes watching in fear that he might become the next victim if he so much as twitched a muscle. Staring at him impassionately, cold, empty eyes searing into him eventually caused him to make the decision to hurry over to the exit and make his way down the rickety ladder before any ill might have become of him.

Amélie felt the tree rock softly with the movement as the boy descended, watching from her perch and listening to the soft thumps of sneakers against grass. It only took a few seconds for him to make his way to the back door of his home, pulling the door open and disappearing inside.

Rain drops began to patter against the roof, clacking as they hit the leaves of the tree and rolled off and tumbled to the soil below. Amélie rolled her shoulders, made sure her belt was adjusted and secure and made her way out of the structure. The return of the family was an unforeseen circumstance, but one she had planned for nonetheless.

It would have to be done in a more forceful manner, without the added benefit of the range and stealth that Widow's Kiss afforded her. Of course, still no one heard or saw her as she slinked through the urban backyards, sliding a toolkit from her belt and searching until she found items with which to lock pick her target's back door.

Slipping inside, she was not the least bit surprised by the lavish adornments throughout the house. Expensive paintings of splattered shapes that made absolutely no sense- she had always hated modern art- leather upholstered modular sofa, an entertainment system that someone like D.va would undoubtedly be jealous of. Talon certainly spared no expenses when it came to their underlings, that was for sure.

As she made herself comfortable, laying in wait for her target to return home, she pondered over how she should take him out. Strangulation? Slit his throat? Or perhaps she could hold him down and beat him to death until her knuckles were bloody and raw, throbbing with pain.

The last one sent a shiver down her spine, ingrained conditioning making her thrilled at the thought of his suffering. However, she had to remind herself that this was her purpose now, and that he was only one of many. There would be all the time in the world to make her former bosses suffer as they had made her.

Interrupting her musing, the house filled with shifting beams of light, bouncing off of various mirrors and metal sculptures, the headlights of a blacked out car pulling into the driveway of the home. 

Amélie smirked, closing her eyes and listening to every little sound from beyond the incessant splatters of the rain outside.

A door unlatched, shoes were kicked off and a dripping wet jacket shirked from shoulders, placed on a coat rack to drip dry. A set of keys thrown carelessly into a ceramic plate, sock covered feet padding purposefully towards the kitchen. Someone is hungry, perhaps?

It didn't take long, and she was patient. Soon the man made his way into the living room, plated sandwich in hand, flicking the light switch on only to be greeted by the sight of the assassin standing practically in front of him, face stone cold as she looked into his soul.

The plate dropped from his hand, a smattering of lettuce and yellow blobs of mustard that had been hastily spread over sliced ham covering the oak floorboards in an instant. The ceramic plate shattered into mosaics, the startling sound the only noise before Amélie was pulling the man into her arms.

Forearm on the back of his neck, the other arm snaked tightly around his throat, it didn't take long for his face to start turning a darker shade of red. He kicked violently, struggling against her but her grip was too firm, too perfect from all of that training.

His body fell limp against her, but she maintained her hold, starving his brain and lungs of oxygen until the body began spasming and jerking uncontrollably. A sob of anger burst from her throat as she maintained her grip, his body slowly ceasing movement. She held on just a little longer, her fingers reaching out for his pulse point and only retracting once she was satisfied the life had finally drained from him.

As she finally let him fall to the ground, she set her face in stone once more, a small part of her rage and inner turmoil having been sated for now.

She made her way out of the house; by now the rain was pouring down in and endless curtain, soaking through to her skin after mere moments outside. It didn't bother her, in fact it was refreshing. She lifted her face to the sky and let it fall over her, dripping down her skin in rivers and washing away the pain that still ravaged her from within.

An image flashed through her mind, a warmth enveloping her body and deceptively strong arms encircling her. She released a breath she wasn't aware she had been holding, chest shuddering; Amélie fell into the smaller body, allowing the Brit to hold her silently, close, saying everything that needed to be said simply through touch alone.

Then, just like that, it was gone.

Amélie opened her eyes even as the rain dribbled into them, turning her gaze to her left and meeting the eyes of a small boy two houses down, white knuckling the window frame of what she assumed was his bedroom. 

Neither of them made motion to move, but she could tell from the way his brows were knitted together in concern and his face was nearly touching the glass that he was asking if she had really done the deed.

Perhaps she could have smiled, pretended everything was alright and put his mind at ease, but that would be lying to both herself and to him.

The rain increased, the clouds overhead almost the colour of tar and relentless in their assault. Such was the thickness of the downpour, it obscured her view of anything a few feet past the fence line. 

Straightening her back and composing herself, she made quick work of slipping from the yard and following the back streets until she was able to make it back to her little hovel. The last thing she wanted was for Talon to catch her while she was out and about, removing their agents from existence.

To be fair, the same could have been said about Overwatch and Lena. It just wouldn't do to have their agents tracking her, bombarding her with nonsense about doing 'what was right'. What was right to them and what was right to her were two very different things, but it didn't make her right any less valid.

And to have Lena in the line of fire? Yes, she was fast, but there was only so much her zipping about would achieve. One day, she wouldn't be fast enough, and there was only so much Amélie could do through her scope. Or if Talon decided they wanted to take Lena? Break her like they had Amélie and turn her into a cold, lifeless, weapon of destruction?

Non, she would not have it. No matter how her chest ached every time she saw Lena's smiling face in her thoughts, she would not rescind her plan. This was the way it would be, with her laying freezing cold in the dead of the night, a lonely existence. At least Lena would be safe, warm, and with friends who loved her. Friends who could give her everything she could not.

Amélie shivered uncontrollably, wrapping her arms tightly around her body and curling up in a corner, eventually falling into a fitful sleep.

~


	8. Chapter 8

Pain, cold, alone. 

Amélie had been on the hunt for the perpetrators of her torture under Talon for five weeks now, all but avoiding Lena to ensure her safety from the people who now sought to eliminate her. This meant regularly spending her nights wrapped in nothing more than a thin shawl in dripping, dark alleys and cramped alcoves. Watching, moving, slinking through the shadows like her very captors had taught her to do; now it could be used against them.

Despite how much she had to travel in order to pick off her targets one by one, she always managed to keep track of where Tracer was on any given day. It was an ingrained, primal thing, her urges to protect her driving her through the long days and the freezing nights.

On the rare occasion she caught glimpse of her little Brit, soft brown hair and freckled nose bringing sensations to her awareness that were almost too much for her to bear. She wanted her- needed her- but in order for her to keep the woman alive she had to stay behind the scenes, watching from a distance and always staying one step ahead of Talon.

This day in particular hadn't begun much differently. A new target, a new kill to be had, another step closer to justice.

Keenan Herman. He'd worked on the technology and development team that created her implant and worked on her reprogramming and brainwashing. Three children, an ex wife. She wondered how those same children would see their father if they knew of his exploits.

A low hum left her throat, her eyes focusing down the scope of her rifle as she watched the man making his way down a small street, lined with a few family run businesses including a bakery that always made fresh eclairs every morning, glad to serve them with their own special blend of Arabica coffee.

His shoulder length blonde hair flapped about in the breeze, forcing him to brush it out of his eyes every so often, a frown in his features visible from the irritation it caused him. For some reason, this brought the slightest bit of delight to Amélie.

It was as she was watching him take a coffee and newspaper to sit outside of the Cafe` that a flash of colour to her left caught her attention, her eyes changing focus and her rifle pushed in that direction.

“Merde.”

It was Lena, ever oblivious, a thick grey coat with fur lining that reached her middle thigh wrapped tightly around her to keep out the cold. Her little nose just stuck out of its high collar, her pace was fast but casual, honestly no different to any other person who might be out and about doing their days chores.

It was just like her to find her way into her business- whether it was intentionally or not- forcing Amélie to put her plans on a hold now in case she let the girl know that she was there, watching her.

Chewing her bottom lip, she continued to trace her steps, following her through her scope and wondering just what it was that the girl was doing in this part of town anyway. Yet, perhaps she had just lucked out to be there in the first place, as Lena passed the Cafe` she watched Keenan abandon his coffee and newspaper and begin to skulk along behind Lena at some distance.

Instantaneously, a pit of fire ignited in Amélie's gut, and it took all of her self control in that moment to hold her trembling finger still and resist the urge to put a hole through his skull. Of course, she planned on doing that anyway, but she would not risk alerting Lena to her presence. 

Brow lowering in contained fury, she watched as he followed Lena two blocks, passing a supermarket and several apartment buildings. A sensation of dread broiled in her gut, a lump slithering into her throat as her heart rate increased. Shadows, several of them, rushing out of the alleys just as Lena made it onto an empty street and deep charcoal clouds seeped across the sky and blotted out the sun.

In mere moments, they converged on Lena. Surprise was evident on the woman's face, and though the blue glow couldn't be seen through her thick coat, Amélie knew it was bursting with colour as Lena slipped through the time stream and dodged the men as they all rushed at her.

Guns were drawn in seconds, Lena being the unfortunate one who was left unarmed except for her extreme speed capabilities. She dodged one, then another, gun shells going flying but no bullets ever hitting. Still Amélie resisted the urge to shoot, knowing full well that Lena would still be able to handle herself against what she could only describe as amateurs.

That is until she noticed Keenan. He had not engaged, but rather sat back, pulling a small device out of his coat and beginning to fidget with buttons and dials on it's black, metallic case.

“What are you doing, I wonder?” Amélie mused, her intrigue piqued, zooming in further on the device but not entirely able to make out what its use was for, just some of the words and numbers on it.

Lena zipped around, landing a fly kick to one guys skull. He toppled over backwards, blood beginning to trickle in a steady stream out of his nose as he lay groaning and holding a hand to his face. Lena dodged a punch from another man, then another, blinking, then recalling so that she could grab them by both their coats at the same time and knock their heads together as hard as she possibly could.

There was one man left and Keenan. Lena was signalling the bruiser to take her on, her lips turning up into a cheeky smirk as she did. The man rushed her, but as she prepared to slip out of his way and let him smash into the wall behind her, the little device in Keenan's hand began to flash erratically. Lena froze.

Flashes of blue were now visible, sparking up past the collar of her coat. Amélie let out a small gasp, watching as a grimace of pain overtook Lena's face, her body going limp right as the brute rammed into her. Things had taken a sudden and unexpected turn, panic had overcome Amélie as she watched the bruiser get behind Tracer and hold her in place, hands behind her back.

She looked so small, so helpless, her eyes glistening and begging for whatever pain was coursing through her body to please stop. Her lower lip quivered and Amélie was sure she even heard the girl whimper, Keenan approaching her with a filthy grin of achievement on his face. The man holding Lena pulled his gun up and brought it to her temple, his face unreadable, a drone for Talon's bidding.

There was not a second to spare. It was stop this man from pulling the trigger, or destroy that god forsaken device before it could do any harm to the Brit. What if it sent her back into the time stream where she became lost forever in purgatory? What if it painfully ripped her apart atom by atom? Non, she would not have it.

Her rifle sang and the device in Keenan's hand shattered into a thousand pieces, clattering to the ground. This was quickly followed by another bullet, and Keenan's lifeless body collapsing onto the ground and twitching in a puddle of his own crimson blood.

In that moment, the pain on Lena's face slowly dissipated and was replaced with relief, that same relief felt by Amélie as she watched the woman return to normal. 

Another shot rang out, just as Lena began to shift in the man's arms and prepare to blink out of his grasp.

“Lena!”

Widowmaker's rifle wailed in rage as a bullet exploded from its chamber, hissing through the air until it passed through the Talon mercs skull with a sickening crunch. His grip on Lena finally relented as his body folded to the ground.

Amélie shouldered her rifle as quickly as she could, rappelling down from her nest on the building and booking it across the road, her heart racing and the vision of Lena dead on the ground being the only thing she would see when she arrived.

“Lena!” Amélie called out again as the massacre grew closer, just another few house lengths and she would be there. 

Boots clashing against the concrete she rushed to the scene, leaping over the bodies of Keenan and the Talon mercs as though they were nothing more than mere obstacles, falling to her knees beside Lena who now sat against a brick wall with a heavy stream of blood running down her cheek.

“No, no, you stupid foolish girl!” Amélie choked out, so wrapped up in concern for the Brit that she did not notice the stinging warm tears rolling down her face.

Grasping hands pulled at her coat, tugging it open to reveal the Chronal Accelerator, glowing a vibrant and steady blue. Relieved that it was still intact, she pressed her hands into Lena's cheeks and lifted the girl's head up to meet her gaze, slender fingers fluttering down to seek a pulse.

A throaty cough and a strained, gasping breath was sucked into Lena's lungs as her eyes struggled to open, her pupils searching to find Amélie's.

It was almost too much to watch, her hand now sliding up through silken brunette locks until they found a large, gaping wound that was steadily oozing blood onto her pale skin.

“Ame.... Amélie....” Tracer struggled to speak, her eyes glazed and unable to focus on the French woman, the scene tearing holes in Amélie's heart as she had to witness it.

“Shhhh, hush mon amour. Save your strength.”

There was the smallest of pouts, even as she knocked at death's door, still as stubborn and insolent as ever; she finally gave in and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall. 

Amélie began to search her coat, peeling back the left hand side and sliding her hand up the padding until she found it. A small inner pocket with Lena's cellphone, glad that the girl had it on her and retrieving it quickly. She could only hope that the girl had at least one of the Overwatch contacts in it and, after a quick search through her contacts, found Angela's emergency contact number and dialled it.

It rang. And rang. And rang. Amélie was about ready to give up in frustration when there was finally a click and a rather breathless Angela answered on the other side of the line.

“Hello?”  
“It's Lena. You must hurry.”

Angela would have recognised the French accent immediately, and the tone of her voice following was one of pure concern. There was only one reason why Amélie would be calling from Lena's phone in a situation like this.

“Where are you?”

Of course she knew, it was her job to know her locations like the back of her hand, and she gave it to Angela as quickly as she could without rambling it off so fast as to sound like a madwoman. Angela promised they would make it there as fast as they possibly could, fortunate enough to have their medical drop ship on standby and not out at a job at that time.

As she hung up the call, she placed the phone carefully back inside of Lena's pocket where it belonged, closing the jacket back up and sliding herself next to the smaller girl until she was able to put one arm around her and the other on her wound. It wasn't much, but applying any pressure to stem the bleeding was better than none.

“Y-you came back,” Lena muttered, her voice scratchy and just above a whisper. Amélie drew in a sharp breath, feeling a smaller hand reach around and weakly enclose her own.

It was all she could do to suppress a sob that was struggling to make it's way from her chest, but she would be strong for her. Leaning in, she pressed a long kiss to Lena's cheek, the metallic sting of blood present as it slipped over her lips.

“But you see, I never left you, chéri.”

~

The drop ship arrived in a little over five minutes, a dishevelled Mercy jumping from the rear deck before the craft had even touched the ground below it. There were other people there too that Amélie did not recognise, but that were dressed in medical outfits and carrying equipment, as well as wheeling along a stretcher that was pushed down to ground height and allowed Lena to be loaded onto it with a quick lift.

Amélie followed along behind them as they loaded her up onto the aircraft, about to follow them on when one of the medical staff held up a stern hand to her.

“Sorry ma'am, we can't allow you on-board.”

Her eyes lowered, brimming with fury and her fingers curling into fists. She took a step forward until she knew her breath would be touching the other person's skin.  
“Do you truly think you could stop me from boarding?” she mocked, her voice laced with venom. The medical assistant swallowed, taking a small step back.

“I'm sorry, it's just protocol, we can't-”

“Ange.... please.” The hoarse request came from Lena's lips, everyone's eyes on her. 

It only took a moment, and a small nod from Angela to her staff, with them moving out of Amélie's way and allowing her to make her way into the bay where she found a spot just above Lena's bed. It was rather cramped, but she made the most of it, both staying out of the way and able to tell Lena soft reassurements as the nurses and Angela began to work on her. 

There was only so much they could do on the flight to the medical facility, but the main concern on the way there was making sure she was on fluids and was given something for the pain, a thick gauze applied to try and stop the bleeding. At least the trip was only short, and they soon arrived on site where she watched as they carefully but quickly began wheeling Lena inside of the hospital.

Angela kept the staff busy as they wheeled her down a brightly lit hallway, painted in a light cream colour with glossy white tiles. A sign on the wall to the right read 'Surgery', the wheels of the bed clacking loudly and echoing down the long, stretching halls.

They reached a pair of double doors and Lena was wheeled on through, Angela turning to stop Amélie before she could follow through.

“I'm sorry, we have to operate immediately. You will need to remain in the waiting room.” Her voice was firm, but her eyes were soft and apologetic.

Bile rose in Amélie's throat as she realised the severity of what had happened, barely able to form words, merely nodding her head in compliance and watching Angela make her way through the doors to the surgery room.

She didn't know what to do with herself, pacing aimlessly, looking down through the doors but unable to make anything out through the frosted glass. Her body was on edge and her brain full of frustration and confusion, finally resigning herself to sit on an uncomfortable chair in a dimly lit waiting room with a rather poor selection of reading material.

Everything in her brain had told her that staying away was the right decision to make, that if she kept her distance from Lena, then Talon would have no reason to go after her and would leave her alone; that the only reason they wanted Lena was because she was in their way of getting to Amélie.

But it had become abundantly clear that that wasn't the fact. If Amélie had not been there today, then undoubtedly Lena would not have survived, whatever that device was... it messed with her temporal hinging. Talon had obviously been working on this technology for some time, and now it seemed they were determined to get to Lena regardless of whether or not Amélie was there.

Of course, it was so clear to her now. She was foolish to think otherwise, to think differently of such a bloodthirsty, vile corporation. Perhaps they thought that if Lena was out of the picture that Amélie would lose any hope of life and happiness, and that she would run back to Talon where they would control her all over again. Or maybe they even had plans of turning Lena into a weapon as well, it was never an impossibility after all. 

In any case, there was only one answer. She must never leave Lena's side again. No matter the protests she might receive, despite how the other members of Overwatch might feel about it, the only way for the Brit to be safe was with the assassin watching over her 24/7.

~

“Amélie?” a soft voice filtered through to her ears, her head turning quickly to see Angela standing just a few feet away from her, her hair a mess and bags under her eyes but a hopeful smile on her face.

Amélie stood immediately, ready to hear the news.

“Lena? Is she alright?”

Angela nodded slowly, her eyes warm with reassurance and her hands clasped neatly before her. Amélie could feel a long breath escape her lungs that she must have been holding for a good while, the tension in her shoulders loosening just a tad.

“Surgery went well. Whatever you did, it appears her gunshot wound did not penetrate the brain membrane and she should recover quickly,” a small pause as Angela stepped forwards, resting a hand gently against Amélie's arm. “You saved her life, we cannot thank you enough for doing so.”

The warmth radiated through her body from the simple touch, one of care and concern that she had not felt from someone before without something being expected of her in return. At least, not in many years. Friendship was not something she had experienced in Talon; emotional attachments of any form were nothing more than distractions from her missions and training. If anything, they were friendships of convenience, useful only as long as information was needed.

To be thanked for saving Lena's life was... different. It felt strange inside of her, but it somehow felt right. She however did not know how to respond, choosing instead to break eye contact and continue her train of thought.

“May I see her?”

Angela nodded, turning so that she was beside her and using her soft hand to guide her in the direction of the patient recovery rooms. As they passed underneath the glow of white fluorescent tube lights, memories flooded back to Amélie, and she suddenly remembered this place as the same hospital where she had recovered after Angela successfully removed the Talon technology from her body.

She shivered. Something about those memories now, thinking back to what had been done to her, unnerved her to her very core. She would never truly be the same again, but she would fight like hell for the right to keep what she had gained.

They made their way past a nurses reception desk and towards a room where a tall, dark woman was standing vigilant guard outside of a room numbered simply with '12'. Amélie recognised Fareeha Amari instantly, followed shortly by the glare of seething anger and resentment that flashed behind her eyes upon spotting the French woman.

“What is she doing here?” Fareeha demanded, taking a solid step forwards and throwing Angela an accusatory glare. As though in reprimand, Angela clicked her tongue.

“Fareeha, she saved her life. She is here because she cares for our Lena, just as much as we do,” pausing in her sentence, she reached over and gave Fareeha's hand a small squeeze. “Perhaps even more, Schätzli.”

This seemed to rein in the soldier somewhat, her eyes softening and a colour just touching her cheeks as she looked down at where Angela had taken her hand. Amélie could only laugh internally. It seems the Amari had taken a shining to Angela in more than one way.

“That does not mean that I have to like it.”

Angela chuckled softly letting go of the other woman's hand and pulling open Lena's hospital room door.

“Of course not, dearest.”

With a small nod and a soft smile, Angela motioned for Amélie to enter the room.

“She will still be drowsy from the anaesthesia, do not be surprised if she is a little more... silly, than usual.” Angela told her, trying to find the kindest way possible to refer to Lena's boisterous personality.

Amélie quirked a brow, before stepping into the dim room and allowing the door to gently close behind her. There before her, was her little Lena, laying propped up in her bed with a pastel pink blanket pulled all the way up to her chest. There were still a few marks of dried blood on her face but other than that she was mostly cleaned up, her mess of brown hair only slightly more erratic than what it usually was.

Still, in the soft warm glow of the bedside lamp, Amélie decided that as vulnerable and lonely as she looked right then, she had also never looked quite so beautiful.

Taking her time to step closer, not wanting to disturb the girl from her slumber, she pulled a chair up beside her and began to sit. At first she just watched her, examining every little spot on her gorgeous face, just watching as her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Eventually she found herself unable to stay leaning back in her chair, scooting closer and allowing one of her hands to reach in and brush against the girl's cheek.

Cupping it momentarily, she moved her hand down her neck and allowed it to come to rest just beneath her collarbone so she could feel Lena's chest with every breath she took. It was in that moment that she felt something oddly shaped under her hospital gown, something sharp that shouldn't have belonged there.

Noticing there was a very fine golden chain just under the collar of the gown, she slipped her fingers underneath it until she was able to fish out the attached object; it was a bullet casing. 

Perplexed, she rolled it over in her hands for a moment before her eyebrows lifted in recognition. It was one of her own bullets. She looked up at Lena.

Had she... kept it as a memento? Something to remember her by?

Amélie returned her gaze to the bullet, her breath catching in her throat as she quickly tucked the necklace back under the shirt. The corner of her lips turned up.

“Ah chéri, constantly surprising me.”

“Yer would, ya fat toad.”

The insult caught her off guard, looking up to see Lena staring at her through glazed eyes and a groggy disposition, a ridiculous grin spreading onto the Brit's face.

“Couldn't keep away, could ya'?”

Amélie's smile grew a little more, her head turning down to look at her own lap as she replied. “I suppose not.”

“Pffffttt,” Lena blew a raspberry, followed by one of her infamous giggles. “Ya lucky you're bloody gorgeous or I'da dropped you the second you went tickin' off on me.”

“Is that so?” a slight huff left Amélie's lips.

A long pause.

“Nah.”

The room went quiet again, Lena drifting off momentarily before making a few choice adorable sounds and stretching out under the blankets.

“Ame?”

“Hm?” Amélie watched as Lena wriggled her arm free of the blanket wrapping her up, swinging her hand in the French woman's direction. Amélie paused briefly, watching a flash of desperation cross Lena's face.

Reaching out, she took the hand between both of hers, rubbing circles against Lena's palm with one of her thumbs. A soft breath of relief left Lena's throat.

“Ya' not gonna' leave me again, are you?”

Amélie's dark hair fell over her eyes as she shook her head, giving the Brit's hand a firm squeeze.

“I am not going anywhere, chéri.”

This answer seemed to satisfy the brunette woman, her eyes softly closing and her cheek nuzzling into the pillow beneath her head. Amélie watched over her for quite some time, the sound of Lena's heavy breaths as she fell asleep again drifting through the room. Eventually this sound was interrupted as the hospital door clicked open, Amélie turning to see the tall, lanky form of Fareeha cautiously enter the room.

The two made eye contact, but Amélie made no move to have a threatening disposition. The Amari woman was here to visit her friend, she would not be the one to cause a bother.

Though Fareeha shifted uncomfortably, she stood straight and made her way over to the other side of Lena's bed, looking down at the girl and pressing a hand firmly against her shoulder in comfort.

“She has been through so much, I admire the strength that I see in her.”

Amélie was surprised that Fareeha had been the first to initiate conversation, and as such was not prepared, looking momentarily lost before her brain kicked in and she was able to formulate a reply.

“Yes, she is.... the most stubborn woman I have ever met.”

The corner of Fareeha's lips turned up into a small smile as the two made eye contact, and she could see just a flutter of warmth behind her chocolate irises. Perhaps the two might never quite see eye to eye, but for the woman to see her as an ally and not as a threat would be a good first step.

“Is that why you fell for her?”

She was taken aback by the statement, not so much by it's abruptness, but more so because it was less of an accusation and more so soft and full of genuine intrigue.

“Yes,” she was flustered. “No- I-”

Taking a deep breath, she looked down at the small hand still in her own, brushing her fingers across Lena's knuckles.

“Despite Talon's programming, Lena was the only one that ever defied it. Defied me,” pausing briefly, she shifted in her seat. “I cannot say if it was her willingness in pursuing me that caused the technology to break down, but... she made me feel things. Things I had not felt in such a long time, it was... difficult to process them.”

Fareeha nodded, not wanting to interrupt her. 

“I am not the person I once was, I never can be. The urges to hunt, to kill, they are always there,” she peered over at Fareeha, watching to see if this admission would cause a change in the woman's disposition but she merely continued to watch her as she had before. Amélie shook her head. “Now I must use my training to keep her safe, and to seek revenge against the ones who did this to me... to her.”

The two made eye contact again, this time Amélie could see something else behind the woman's gaze that reminded her almost of herself. Though Fareeha was a woman of justice, there existed a primal urge inside of her that would protect the ones she loved at all costs. Amélie thought back to Angela from earlier, and she realised that Fareeha existed in that same position of being completely devoted to another person.

Fareeha cleared her throat, standing up a little taller than she already was.

“Angela believes you would make an excellent asset to Overwatch and its cause. I'm sure Lena would agree.”

Of course she would, is that not something the woman had wanted all along?

A small sound of amusement sung from Amélie's lips, not quite a laugh, but it was almost there. As if on cue, a small giggle came from Lena's direction as she shuffled underneath her bedsheets.

“Fareeha's banging Doctor Zieeeggggler!” she announced, in a sing song tune, giggling once more with such self satisfaction that this time, Amélie laughed. It was a bright, musical sound, and she felt her cheeks burn with the smile that was now plastered on her face.

Fareeha's face went bright red.

“Lena!”

“Wot? It's true innit?” she replied, seemingly nonplussed by Amari's pure embarrassment. Fareeha shifted uncomfortably, playing with her fingers like a child who had just been caught stealing from the cookie jar.

“It is not necessary to just blurt it out like that! I wouldn't ask such a thing about you and Amélie!”

Lena snorted, cracking open one eye to fix Fareeha with a glazed look.

“Pfft, if we were bangin' too right everyone would know 'bout it.”

Amélie felt her cheeks rise with heat and knew they were becoming pink with a soft flush of embarrassment, the smile dropping from her face immediately. Fareeha looked across at her, a rather smug grin now spreading across her cheeks.

“Lena!”

The Brit rolled her head over, now fixing Amélie with her eyes, shimmering with amusement and her little nose crinkling up as she attempted to wink at her.

“Wot? You think I 'aven't thought about it at night when I'm tou-”

“-Lena!” Amélie's blush increased twofold, her face now burning while Fareeha just sat back, apparently incredibly amused by the French woman's discomfort in this situation. Not only was Lena being absolutely impossible, but now she also had to deal with the implied thought of Lena laying awake in bed of a night, pleasuring herself as she thought about Amélie.

“Mon dieu, Lena you are going to give me a heart attack.” Reaching up, Amélie rubbed at the crease forming between her eyes, her hand also doubling as a shield until her blush began to subside.

Lena appeared overly pleased with herself, a wicked shit-eating grin on her face, and Fareeha not being much better in her reaction, stifling a laugh behind her hand. It was like dealing with children; two adult children. She decided she had had enough for the time being, and excused herself from the room to go and get herself a coffee. Lena shouted out that she wouldn't kiss her with 'coffee breath'. Amélie ignored her.

~

Angela had spoken to her that evening, told her that Winston had requested she stay on site and attend their next intel briefing, as well as assigning her a room next to Lena's. They had offered to arrange her access to the armoury, but she declined. All she needed was her rifle, and Lena could always stop by the armoury to pick up ammunition stock if she needed it.

Being among the people that made their home on base was... a little strange, at first. Mostly because of the looks and stares she got as she made her way around the facilities, checking on Lena, getting her meals and hiding away in the Tech Lab to gather intel on priority Talon targets.

In the cafeteria Angela had enthusiastically waved her over to sit at her little table, seemingly the only person in the room genuinely happy to see her, apart from Lena- who was still in recovery- and Fareeha, who was still just warming up to her. Amélie had been reluctant at first, but at seeing the glowing smile on Angela's face, had relented and taken a seat across from her to eat her dinner.

Angela had begun with the normal pleasantries; how was your day? Have you seen Lena? Are you feeling well? Eventually Angela and Fareeha shared a story from a week ago on a mission that involved an unfortunate Talon merc and how he somehow managed to fall on the wrong end of Torbjorn's wrench. Apparently, Torbjorn had seemed even more violated than that mercenary had felt, even as the panicking Swede had run circles while Angela had to carefully remove the offending object.

How bizarre. And yet, the images of the story playing out in her head brought the slightest of smiles to her face. 

She had excused herself after her meal and a little longer of indulging in the stories the two shared, putting away her tray and deciding to make her way down to the hospital to visit Lena for an hour or two before she went to the training range.

On the way there, she turned down a hall, just about a two minute walk from Lena's room when she watched as a young Overwatch recruit walked towards her from the other end. At first she thought nothing of it, moving over to the other side so as not to be in his way, when he also switched sides.

Strange. She changed sides again, thinking perhaps it was just a coincidence, and it happened again. As he drew closer, she saw the glint in his eyes and the way his fingers were white knuckled and balled into fists. Something wasn't right, her body tensed up as it prepared to go into fight mode.

As soon as he was a few feet away, he lunged at her, pinning her against the wall with such a force that it momentarily took her breath away and rattled her brain inside her skull. When she was able to push her eyes open, she saw the anger and rage staring back at her.

“Talon filth! My family died because of your people!” he spat, the globule of hot liquid splashing down on her nose and dribbling down until it slid over her lips. Her eyes closed, a wave of anger stirring within her.

Snapping them open, she shifted an arm until she had a firm grip on his collar, pulling him closer.

“I am not one of them! Do not dare speak their name around me, little boy.”

He seemed to take serious issue with this insult, his lips turning into a snarl and revealing his teeth, anger seething behind his eyes.

“You lying wench!”

With a sudden strength the man swung upwards, his knuckles dusting her across the mouth and nose. Surprise was the first thing she felt, then a trickle of blood as it made its way from her nostril and touched her lip. Turning back, her eyes alight with fire, she took his arm as it swung for her again and used the momentum to her advantage.

She swung out of the way and allowed the man to fall face first into the wall, where she grabbed his wrist and quickly twisted it behind his back until he started grunting in agony.

“Amélie!”

It was Lena's voice, and it surprised both her and the man struggling in her grips. She turned to see the woman hurrying down the hall, dressed in track pants and a sweater with a fresh square bandage on her head. Lena eventually reached them, only somewhat out of breath, a light pink shade creeping onto her cheeks.

“What in the hell is going on 'ere?” she demanded, looking between the two. 

Amélie stared at the back of the man's head, then turned back to Lena.

“This salaud attacked me in the hall. I was merely defending myself.” She stated matter of factly, noticing the way Lena's nose turned up in disgust as she stared down the recruit.

“You got some right nerve coming in 'ere and attacking her! I wouldn't even be here if she 'adn't have saved my life.”

The man squirmed, Amélie finally let go of his arm and allowed him to turn around, his face now falling to the ground as shame washed over his features.

“You're lucky I don't report you to Winston for assaultin' another officer!”

The man looked up, fear in his eyes as he begged the Brit.

“Please, Miss Oxton! It won't happen again! It's just what the other fellas said-”

Lena stood up straighter, her presence downright commanding despite the fact that she was still recovering from an injury and dressed in what were essentially pyjamas.

“-And just what do the other fellas say, lad?”

He visibly gulped, wiping his clammy palms against the thighs of his pants and looking around for an escape route.

“Just that she's a Talon wench, and that she's using you to get access to Overwatch and send all the intel back to Talon. That they overheard her talkin' about offing you.”

Despite the fact that it was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard, and it was clear Lena also thought the exact same thing, she could see a flash of anger behind the usually bubbly woman's features.

Lena took a few steps forward until she was almost in his face, despite being at least eight inches shorter than him, he was visibly uncomfortable with her proximity.

“You tell them 'lads' that if they got somethin' to say about Amélie Lacroix, they can come an' say it to my face, unless they want to be kicked off base for insolence.”

Amélie's lip twitched, her body tingling with satisfaction. She had never seen Lena so... bold. And commanding. It was incredibly attractive, and it was making a ball of tightness and heat boil within her abdomen that was growing hard to ignore.

The man nodded his understanding, picking up his feet and taking off down the hall as quickly as he could. Amélie stared at him as he left, almost completely having forgotten the throbbing in her face and the blood trickling down her lip until a warm palm cupped her cheek and turned her until she was looking down at Lena. A thumb brushed over her lips, wiping away the blood.

“Sorry about the twat.”

A pause, allowing Lena to continue wiping, all the while gazing down at her and wondering how such a woman could even exist, let alone want a murderous assassin like herself.

“You should be resting.” Amélie shook off the thoughts, taking Lena's hands off her face and using her jacket sleeve to wipe the remaining blood away. 

“I'll 'ave you know the nurse said I could take a walk,” Lena replied indignantly, crossing her arms over her chest. “Besides, I'm gettin' released tomorrow.”

A lifted eyebrow. “Cleared for duty?”

“Once me stitches are out.”

“Bien.”

Lena took Amélie's hand, tugging it gently as she began to walk backwards, chewing on her lower lip.

“Goin' to the garden. Walk with me?” it wasn't really a question, it was a demand, but not one she would ever refuse anyway.

“Oui.”

~

The garden was quiet, sunset having just been and gone, the crickets now out in the lawns and chirping excitedly as they tried to draw in their mates. The sky was a dark shade of navy with splashes of grey and black clouds that obscured the moon. It was cold, but Lena seemed comfortable in what she was wearing, and although it bothered her more than it used to, Amélie wasn't cold enough yet to complain.

Lena was unusually quiet. By now she would have probably talked for the entire walk, except for as long as it took for her to take a breath or let Amélie reply with a short answer. Normally Amélie would have taken the silence as a blessing from the woman's rambling, but she felt like there was something bothering her today. It seems over time, she was becoming more and more in tune with emotions, both her own and those of other people.

“Lena? You have not spoken much, have I done something to upset you?” she asked softly, watching as Lena shook her head in reply.

“Sorry luv, I'm just... thinkin'. Y'know?”

“No, sorry. By now you normally would have given several spoken word expositions with barely a breath in-between.”

Lena stared at her for a moment, looking a little surprised.

“Was that a joke? Cos it was pretty funny,” Lena replied, finally looking away and letting out a long sigh. “Just I been thinkin' lately. About... you an' me.”

Amélie stopped mid walk, her eyes lowering as she tried to gauge what exactly it was Lena meant about 'them'. It was difficult to read Lena though, the woman looking smaller than she did usually and a blush of colour rising onto her cheekbones.

“I am happy, are you not happy to be with me?” Amélie asked, watching as Lena's eyes flicked back and forth in panic as she realised the French woman had mistaken what she had meant.

“What? No- I mean yes, I mean... course I'm happy to be with you ya' bloody twit,” Lena chewed her lower lip, rubbing her palms up and down her arms as the cold began to get to her just a bit. “Was just thinkin' about if something happened to you or to me, like Talon. We know they're after us now, probably even more ticked off than they were before.”

Amélie flinched, turning away as she remembered the attack, watching Lena lay helpless on the ground as Talon took control of her Chronal Accelerator.

She felt warm arms enclose around her neck then, the smaller woman's body pressing up against her and snuggling in close. Lena's breath was warm on her neck, and she could feel her soft lips caressing her skin. A shiver made it's way down her spine, her arms encircling Lena's waist and pulling her closer.

“When I saw them pull the trigger on you, watched you dying on the ground,” Amélie paused briefly, feeling Lena squeeze her tighter. “I felt things I do not understand. I am broken Lena, I fear I cannot give you what it is that you want. I can only give you what I have.”

Amélie feared that Lena would pull away, that she would be angry at her, or upset, but Lena simply continued to hold her for a few moments before finally speaking.

“D'you remember before Slipstream 'appened? Y'know, when I was normal?”

The memories were fragmented, barely there, only flashes of people and faces, moments in time were there. Part of her knew that her and Lena had been friends at one point before any of these horrific things had happened to them, but these memories evaded her thanks to the brainwashing Talon had employed on her.

“Non, I am sorry.”

Lips pressed a series of kisses to her neck in a slow, careful manner, each one somehow meant to convey an emotion.

“You said I was the bravest woman you knew,” another kiss. “Said 'you better come back to me in one piece'.” Lena tried her very best to impersonate the thick French accent.

A streak of lightning like energy rushed through Amélie's body, her hair standing on end and her skin prickling with goosebumps.

“Lena-”

“-Well I came back. For you. An' I'm always gonna' come back for you, no matter what any other git says or does,” Lena pulled back, a stubborn expression on her face. “Cos that's just what you do when you love someone, yeah?”

Amélie felt her knees grow weak, taken aback by the sudden but round-about admission. She didn't know how to react, but she knew she couldn't just leave the girl standing there after just pouring her heart out. At the same time, Amélie was just barely starting to understand her emotions. It was one-step-at-a-time, and she did not know if she could even say the same thing about Lena. Though, she knew she felt something.

Instead of speaking, she cupped Lena's cheeks and pulled her in, pressing their lips together. Lena whimpered into the kiss, Amélie parted her lips and gently brushed against Lena's. The smaller woman tilted her head, their mouths moving together in a slow, passionate rhythm.

Her tongue caressed Lena's, feeling the sensation of the girls warmth and her desire as she pushed herself up against Amélie's body more firmly. A hand slid underneath her shirt and fingers dragged against her lower back, stroking her skin and making her body tense with anticipation.

If it had have been her choice she would have continued kissing Lena right there in the garden until she could no longer stay awake. She deepened the kiss, Lena's small pair of hands wandered down until they both cupped Amélie's butt cheeks and gave it a series of little squeezes. 

A moan, soft and heady, erupted from her throat as though she had no control over her own voice box. The sensations were becoming too much, her desire burning in her stomach with such a ferocity that she was afraid of herself and her own emotions. She pulled away.

They gazed into each others' eyes for just a bit, and Amélie could see that the smaller woman was trying to hold back and reign in her arousal. Amélie let out a shuddering breath, her forehead falling forwards to rest on Lena's, the two quietly holding each other.

“I am sorry-”

“-Don't be.” Lena replied before Amélie had any chance to argue.

The sound of crickets drifted around them, soft and gentle music that joined along the breaths of wind as it blew through the trees and bushes surrounding them.

“I want you, but it has been such a long time. I do not know if I am ready.” Amélie admitted, a little embarrassed at herself and for having such a conversation in the first place.

Lena leant up and kissed her forehead.

“You'll know when you're ready. And when ya are, I'll be 'ere,” Lena lifted Amélie's face by the chin until she met her gaze, and gave her a cheeky wink. “Besides, I can take care of myself in the mean time.”

Amélie chewed her lower lip, remembering the conversation earlier in the week after Lena's surgery. She allowed her hands to run along the curves of Lena's waist, her thumbs just barely brushing against the outer bulge of her breasts.

“Will you tonight?” she felt bold for a moment, even asking such a lewd question making her cheeks heat. Lena put both her hands on either side of Amélie, resting them on her curved hips.

“Mhmm.”

Licking her lips, she leant into the touch, Lena's palms pressing into her hips and pulling her closer so that their thighs were touching.

“And... you will think of me?”

“Mmmhmmm.” Lena gave her a playful bump with her pelvis, before slowly separating their bodies. Amélie instantly missed the warmth.

“Better get back though, nurse'll be wondering why I'm takin' so long.” Lena seemed just a bit disappointed by the fact, but if she wanted to stay on Angela's good side, it was a smart idea not to piss off her nurses.

“I suppose.” Amélie pondered, beginning to follow Lena back down the foot path the way they came. 

Amélie escorted Lena to her hospital room, glad that once she was discharged, she would be able to keep a much closer eye on her. Lena leaned up and kissed her goodnight, making sure Amélie promised to come get her in the morning when Angela discharged her.

The walk back to her own room was a fair distance, and rather quiet. Most people were winding down for the day, in their rooms reading or watching TV, making phone calls to their loved ones. Amélie had no interest in these things for the most part; she spent a good hour taking apart her rifle and meticulously cleaning it before putting it back together. Then she showered and got herself into bed. It's what she was used to, early to bed, early to rise.

Even though it normally only took her a short while to get to sleep, tonight she was kept awake, thinking back to Lena and what she'd said. Her mind kept swimming, repeating to her over and over again that one little sentence before it just finally clicked with her.

She loves me. Lena loves me.

It was one little sentence that awoke something inside of her, something that she started to realise only by the time that her body was finally starting to deliver her to the dream realm.

She was beginning to remember this sensation, from long, long ago. Recognition struck her, and she knew.

She loved Lena, too.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is still reading/following this story! Your comments/kudos are awesome and keep me encouraged even on the days where I look at my writing and just think 'meh'. <3


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